Denouement
by Oldwickedsongs
Summary: -Completed- During Harry's final year at Hogwarts,  as everyone prepares for Armageddon, Snape returns to the place that damned him once, in hopes of coping with the price of redemption and the understanding not everyone can be saved. Read and Review
1. Prodigals called Home

Author's Note: And here it is, the end of the Dark Prince saga…I really hope you enjoyed taking this journey with me, and I pray you'll stick with me till this last theme has ended. Please, please, read and enjoy and thanks so much. This chapter is slightly unedited and will be replaced soon enough. The summary is a quote from J. R. R Tolkien.

Disclaimer: "If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended,

That you did but slumber'd here while these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme is no more yielding then a dream."

-Midsummer's Night Dream

_"The shadows are the truth in here, _

_So enter at your own risk; _

_for the tragedy of knowing _

_is to know what you have missed…" _

- Unknown 

**Dénouement**

By: Lady Erised

Kiernan Malone had a memorable face but it was not because of handsome features, alluring eyes or charming grace. He became etched into memory because he looked like a walking dead. He was in his mid-thirties but looked far beyond those years. Hair that had once been dark chocolate was mostly gray and thin and seemed glued to his scalp. His eyes were large, round and probably could have once been describe as gray. Now they were dull and dead and seldom looked at anything but the floor or the sky. 

He never walked; he shuffled from place to place, holding his hands rigidly by his side. His body as a whole was frail but like most in his business, it belied a true strength. His pinky nail was filed to a sharp point, as if made for gouging out eyes if needed. He probably had done that more then once where he had come from. 

After all, there was no place for humanity in Azkaban. 

He lifted his head and tasted the air. He could feel a soft wind blowing, as he watched the people move around him. He sighed heavily, feeling his age and many years beyond that. It was on cold days like this that he felt like all his sins seemed to catch up to him. It was the war. He had fought in the first war, as a bright-eyed youth who believed in the stories the great men told him. He had followed one of these great men, and still bore the reminders of his folly on his face. 

He inhaled, bringing in the cold winter air into his lungs, for courage. He pushed open the door of the bar and stepped in. 

"You're late." The woman announced as he slid into the chair opposite her. She took a drink from her glass and stamped out the cigarette she had been chewing on but not smoking. He glared at her but said nothing, instead he just watched her. 

She could have been attractive had it not been for her scowl. Her hair was cut close to the scalp in loose, uneven locks and bleached platinum although her natural black was peering through. Her eyes darted around the room restlessly and she seemed to always be fidgeting. It made her look uncertain but Kiernan knew better then to assume that. 

"Why do you smoke those? You hate them." He asked. 

"Came with the outfit." The woman said; downing another shot of whatever poison was the treat of the day. Kiernan looked down at the woman's baggy green cargo pants, thick jackboots and muscle shirt that showed off strong but scarred arms and smiled. "What else came with it?" 

"What do you have for me?" She said instead of answering. 

"Not a whole lot. The Black Prince is desperate to prove himself. He cares for nothing and is paranoid to boot. The Dark Prince spared spouses and children under a certain age; he does neither. He cares only for the death he can cause." 

"Come on Kiernan, give me some bad news." 

"He's not going to stop unless someone kills him." Kiernan paused. "And I don't think anyone can. I believed him when he said he was going to turn the world to ashes, Becka, because god help us, he just might." 

"You don't have any idea what he's going to do next?" 

"Some, Voldemort and the Prince will only speak together in the presence of Mayon and Radella." Kiernan shifted in his seat. "But he's beginning to get whatever information he can about Fudge and his personal staff. Some believe he's going to try and attack the Ministry." 

"And what role do Mayon and Radella play in this?" 

"They are loyal to Voldemort and him alone and don't look at me that way because there is no way you can reach them." 

The woman looked up, eyes narrowed. "Why do you say that? Everyone can be bought for the right price." 

"Not these two." Kiernan leaned forward. "They're Coven, magicians with powers to rival Voldemort himself and they protect him, I don't know how yet though. It was the Coven protected Voldemort against death, it was them that saved his life that day in Godric's Hallow." 

"How?" 

"I wish I knew. The Coven use to be a sect of 13 Wizards and Witches sworn to uphold the Dark Lord's life at the cost of their own. They were trained in some kind of dark magic, without a wand, sometimes I've heard it been called the Aett Magic." 

"Who knew this?" 

"A very select few, even among the higher echelons of the Dark armies, I learned it from the Throne of Souls, but they were all killed during Silent Night. Beside them, Jack the Ripper, the Dark Prince and now you." 

"Thank you, Kiernan." 

"Hey, isn't that what a spy is suppose to do?" He took her drink and downed it. 

She was resting her eyes on him now. She had steadied herself, sitting calmly like a shadow, watching him finish her drink. He couldn't read her expression but thought her eyes looked troubled. When she spoke again, her voice was firm and emotionless. "No sign of Choice yet?" 

"No, I haven't seen him at any of the gatherings, usually he's on Voldemort's left, behind Peter but now he's no where to be seen. I fear he's met the same fate the Ripper has." 

"What has happened to the Ripper?" 

"She has been banished to her villa. She lives in fear of the Black Prince and those who see this are too scared of this young upstart, they dare not move. He's alienating everyone. Lucius Malfoy already wants his blood but doesn't act because he fears for his wife and son." 

"And how are you, Kiernan?" 

"Been better, been worst." He shrugged. "Can't complain." 

"I'm sure." She rose, pulling out some crumpled bills for the Muggle bartender. "Pay the tab and keep the rest." 

"Thanks." 

"Be safe, Kier, alright?" 

"Aw, don't get all sisterly on me." He laughed. "You ain't got the practice." 

She flicked the cigarette butt at him and walked out the door. Kiernan watched her go and let his smile fade. "You stay safe too." 

The woman opened the door to her flat and threw her keys on the table. She shrugged out of black duster, pulling out another cigarette to light. She regarded it for a moment, then replaced the cigarette and threw them with her keys. She crossed the room, swinging the little white Chinese take-out boxes as she went. She came to a large glass aquarium where a thick black snake rested under a warm light. It reared up and hissed at her dangerously. 

"Oh, hiss at me all you want. I should have made boots out of you years ago." The snake hissed again and she hissed right back. She reached down and tickled his flat head. The snake calmed down and curled unto her hand. It began to slowly tighten its grip. "Oh don't even try it, Dybbuk or you won't get dinner." Dybbuk relaxed its grip and waited. She smiled at him and opened the box and released the two mice into the cage. 

"Becka?" 

The woman closed her eyes and frowned. She turned around, towards her fireplace where Hawke's head was floating. She exhaled. Bad news…there was always bad news at dinnertime. 

"Well," She snapped at attention, spinning on her heels, towards the flame. "Who died, Phoenix?" 

"Quite the opposite," Phoenix Hawke said softly. "We got an Auror coming in from purgatory; he's been assigned to our squad." 

Purgatory was the nickname Aurors gave to the civilian life some Aurors tried to lead after leaving active duty. Living in Purgatory very rarely worked because most Aurors simply become too accustomed to life in the uniform that they feel incomplete without it. That was the most ironic thing about being an Auror; it was almost impossible to walk away from. Becka grimaced. The Hecate Curse, they called it. Those who tried were sometimes called by one of two names: Prodigals, or if they were traitorous, Judas. The fact that this one was coming back meant he was a Prodigal. 

She frowned, knowing there was something more to this. "So, what's the story? Why are you contacting me?" 

"Because, I'm calling you back from England. You're done as a spy contact." 

"What?!" She exclaimed angrily. "I got people out here, Phoenix, I can't leave them alone." 

"We need you back here, by Sky Falls' side." 

"You can't handle her and this new guy?" 

"I want you here." Hawke ordered. "I want you back at Hecate by morning Apelle." 

"How about midday roll call?" 

"Why so late?" 

"Because I plan to get smash faced and have random sex with my spies before I get back home." 

"That's not funny. See you at midday." She watched the face disappear into the flames before they died out. She ran a hand through her short locks and sighed. "What do you think, Dee? Whiskey or Brandy?" The snake was finishing off his last mouse. He looked up at her coldly before returning to his meal. She nodded. "You're right. Both." 

With that, she spun on her heels with something that surpassed military sharpness and crossed to where she kept all her liquor. 

She planned to get smashed; very, very smashed and then she planned to have a killer hangover tomorrow when she was suppose to meet this prodigal. As this was running through her mind, she stopped, leaned back against the doorframe, and exhaled. 

She had been playing this part for a little over two years and she didn't know how much longer she could keep it up. 

She was getting tired…very tired. 

Something jolted her from her dreaming. She looked down and saw Dybbuk curl around her leg. She leaned down and picked him up. She kissed his head and continued on her way. "I know, I know, I'm scared too." She murmured to him. "Let's get those drinks, eh?" 


	2. Family Legacies

**Chapter Two: Family**

An Auror standard issue uniform is navy blue in color with black riding boots, an outer robe, and optional black leather gloves. Rank is displayed on the cuff with stripes of black or gray, by number and color arrangement, trousers are navy, tailored to allow movement while providing a seamless look. The jacket, also navy, also tailored was high collared, usually cut in the style of a Catholic priest, and sleeves are usually slightly flared; many of the older, higher ranking officers  wear gloves to hide missing fingers or scars. Outer robe is gray or navy sleeveless but many wear longer, more formal styles with full sleeves. One wand is carried inside the outer robe, near the heart, this is the spare weapon and another wand, and the one most commonly used hangs on the waist from the belt. Hair is well trimmed and usually short although long hair can be worn out of the eyes. Jewelry, especially wedding rings, is discouraged but Aurors have been known to wear lucky charms around their necks or carried inside of their coat. 

An Auror is addressed by rank or assumed names. Real names are usually known among the squad but seldom used, at least in public, and the assumed name is more common and generally accepted. The Rank is the formal means of addressing an Auror and expected when surrounded civilians.  An assumed name will occasionally give way to a nickname that as used as a term of endearment and while among other Aurors, first names are used.

            Aurors tend to be closely knit regardless of the fake names and cold demeanors, among them there is a saying:

            Once an Auror, always one.

            "Cadets, attention!" Shouted Peace Cassidy, Auror Apprentice, under Gideon Mallory and 25 years old. "Auror at Arms, on the floor."

            The assembled cadets, ages ranging from 17 to 26, and about 15 in number straightened as their superior officer entered the room. He was perhaps the best Auror to come out of England since Mad Eye Moody but was lesser known, having spent his almost his entire career in the shadows of other men. He was a legend among the Aurors but was invisible to anyone outside of Hecate. He was a cold man but had been trained by the best Hecate had to offer. A strong frame, well hidden under his uniform, was still trim even as the man was beginning to leave his prime. His eyes were sharp but narrowed constantly in a ever-present paranoid scowl. Scars adorned him like any other Auror; mostly on his hands and arms from various scraps and little battles and he was said to nursed a bad back. Sighing deeply, this Auror stepped into the room and gave the cadets their first view of his most prominent scar.

            That of three pale lines, carved over his left eye.

            "Armsman, the cadets are assembled."

            And Severus Snape released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "It shouldn't be this easy, you know that, right?"

            Beside him, Gideon snorted. "Welcome back." 

            Severus studied the people around him and thought he should feel tense or at the very least out of place. After all, he hadn't been called Armsman in almost twenty years and the last time he had, it ended with bad memories and a few scars. He could feel Gideon's eyes on him and knew the Malfoy was smiling. He sneered at Gideon but felt something inside him stirred. He was about to ask Gideon about it but something caught his attention, invoking a image of simple beauty. The sun pierced through a window and illuminated the room, where the Aurors waited at attention, and drew shadows over Gideon's face.

            And he smiled, he didn't feel tense or out of place because there was no need for it. He belonged there just as much as anyone of those standing in the room. 

            Once an Auror, always one. 

            Severus Snape was home. It felt right. 

            "At ease, Cassidy" Gideon ordered. Cassidy nodded first to him, then to his cadets. Gideon motioned with a gloved hand Severus and began to inspect the cadets while his partner, Desmond Moody hung back behind them. "These are currently apprentices under various senior Aurors. You know of course how that works."

            "Where will I be assigned?" Snape asked, folding hands behind him, walking side-by-side and staring at the fresh faces of all those Aurors. He found himself wondering which ones wouldn't be there by the time they assembled next. Times were bleak for the world. Lord Voldemort was back in full power, complete with a new set of demons and war gods and it was up to children like the ones before him to fight against monsters that Snape had helped create. Now, he had to help destroy it.

And it wasn't the Dark Prince, or even the great spy that the world needed, it was Alexander Rouge, the great Auror Miracle Maker. Only he didn't think he could be that for them…

But he would die trying.

"Last time I was here, I was under Smith for Interrogations. Who heads up that department?"

            "Malachi's old student, Scott Saunders. But you won't be on that. You're assigned to the strategy and troop movements."

            "Ah, I get to be a chess player." He nodded, not recognizing the name and feeling a pang of guilt for not doing so. "Anything else I should know?"

            "Desmond and I will be working in the London branch, directly under Mad Eye. You'll be working here until it's safer. Not to mention, you'll need time to fall back into the routine."

            "Who's my squad?"

            "Phoenix Hawke, Hecate's liaison to England's Ministry. You should like him. Smart man and amazing to see at work. Other squad members are Sky Falls, and Beckett Stallens."

            "Wait, stop." Severus said, fully recognizing that name. "Sky Falls, the Sky Falls, the woman whose first reaction to everything was to blow it up?"

            "Ah, you remember her."

"Remember her?" Severus repeated. "I still have nightmares about her." He shifted in his coat, pulling at its buttons.

"Something wrong with your uniform?" Desmond asked, with the softest hint of amusement. 

Snape met his eyes, coldly. "I miss my black and although, I never thought I'd say this…I miss Hogwarts." 

"You know, I'm beginning to believe that place has a similar curse to Hecate's." Gideon mused. "Maybe we should warn Amissa."

            "Van Ness? Why on earth would…"

            "They never married, Severus." Gideon interrupted softly. "Sydney died before then, and she's been sent to replace the Runes Professor at Hogwarts. I arranged it. Without you at Hogwarts, I want someone with a Hecate background, to protect the place."

            "Do you really think Hogwarts needs protection?" 

            "You're damn right, I think it does. Potter's there, he has to be guarded, he doesn't have the Prince as a teacher anymore."

            Snape sighed. "Your right. That boy is our best hope…"

            "I know," Gideon read his mind. "Sucks don't it?"

            "So that's Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the boy who beat Voldemort and his Dark Prince, not to mention beat Severus in Seeking. This is the boy who was James and Lily's pride, Sirius' heart and a host of other things I can't recall right now…I'd thought he'd be taller…or tidier."

            Amissa Moon folded her arms across her chest and flicked her head to push her platinum hair out of the way. She was standing at the doors of the Great Hall, watching the boy as everyone else was focused on the Sorting Hat song. Leaning and relaxed as she was, one easily assumed her simple and unassuming but those who knew her, and her history had learned to know better.

            She hailed from a family that had been once considered the most powerful of those who studied the Dark Arts, and it was only with her father being raised by an Auror, that she claimed loyalty to the 'light' side. But still, her appearance seemed to have the lingering of darkness, like the ozone left after storms or ice clinging to life after a winter. She was pale and blond, as if touched by a frost that claimed her color and life, the pallor of her skin was touched only with the softness of pink under her startling blue eyes that seemed only to lend itself to her allure.

            It was rumored that this had been Silas Malfoy's great love, although her heart was said to only be owned by two people on earth.

            One, an Auror, now laid in rest and the other…

            Well, it did not do to dwell on dreams.

            A voice came from behind her, one that held age and coldness with it, and although the tone was low, measured and delicate Amissa knew better then to assume the owner was the same. 

            "One would think by looking at you," The voice said. "that Hecate had no class."

            Amissa shifted her head, raising it and listening to the air. "That you, Satan?" She turned, and made a face of startled surprise. "Oh! Professor Wyvern, forgive me. I thought you were someone else."

            Professor Julia Wyvern still held herself with all the grace and poise of a dragon about to rent a victim apart. The Slytherin House Head, and Potions Mistress raised a finely arched eyebrow, and pursed her lips together in thought.

            Amissa allowed herself a measured gasp of awe. "You know, you are the original bitch. I've tried to get that look right there…can never get it down right. Severus could do a great version but you…damn, woman. I tell you, you will always be a great because of that." She bowed lightly. 

            "You still have that mouth on you, I see. I would have hoped Hecate taught you better."

            "I was always a slow student. You know that, me being in your house and all…"

            "You would have made a better Hufflepuff."

            "Really? I was kind of partial to the Lions." Amissa smiled. "They had the cutest Quidditch team."

            Inside the Hall, Amy Thompson had just been made a Slytherin. Amissa glanced in, and nodded. "Look, fresh bait for you torment. I bet you missed that in your retirement."

            "Your insolence might have been tolerated at the Compound, because you were necessary evil but remember Moon, you still owe me a measure of respect…as your former House Head, and your peer." Wyvern brushed past her. "Remember that."

            Amissa watched her go. "Bitch."

            "Is that our new House Head?" 

            Amissa jumped, and spun around. Standing in front of her was a boy, a Slytherin and one in his final year from the looks of it. The boy was standing with a sort of frigidness and attention that reminded Amissa strongly of every Kaga, she had ever worked with. He was looking into her, not at her and when he spoke he cast his eyes downward, just like…

            And Amissa knew straight off, which of those Creatures this boy reminded her of. 

            "Yeah," She said, warily. "That's Julia Wyvern."

            "You hate her." He wasn't asking the question, merely stating the truth. "Was she really that bad?"

            "She's actually worst but I'm a forgiving person."  She blinked, and stared at him. "What's your name, boy?"

            "They call me Angelo."

            "Named after a family member, aren't we?" She prodded, getting that sort of feeling in her gut that people feared and dreaded. 

            "That's the rumor." 

            "Hey Angel!" Draco Malfoy called, exiting from the Great Hall. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle loomed as his disfigured shadow. "We're skipping dinner, come duel with me."

            "I would only beat you again." The boy returned simply.

            Draco's eye flickered dangerously. "We'll see."

            "If that is what you wish." The boy looked back at Amissa. "It was a pleasure meeting you, milady." He turned to follow Malfoy.

            "Hey, you didn't tell me who you were named after!" Amissa called. "Who are your parents!"

"They're dead." 

            She watched him go, and suppressed the chill crawling up her spine. That boy was dangerous, because of his heritage.  She, above all, knew of the darkness and power that traveled through bloodlines. And she knew his past even though he had never uttered his surname.

He was a Malone. 

Half of what she knew about them was taken from intelligence reports, and her dealings with one of them, the rest her imagination filled in. The Malone were Kaga that had forsaken Hecate in lieu of protecting the Dark Lord. These guardians had twisted their training, corrupted their blood till they had made Lord Voldemort give them a place of power equal to his own. Unlike Voldemort, or his Prince, the Malone worked between the battles, in the shadows- watching and waiting. They were completely and utterly loyal to the Dark Lord.

            And now, she knew one of them was at Hogwarts: very, very near to Harry Potter.

            She wondered why Severus had never acted on this threat. One Malone was just like the other, treacherous and single-minded. He had to know about them, had to have made the connection between Angelo and his kin. 

After all, he had loved one of them. 

"What kind of games were you playing, Alex?" She whispered to her invisible friend but of course, she received no answer. Sighing, she pushed her hair back behind her ear, and moved to find her rooms. 

Something told her she had just entered something nothing in her life had prepared her for.


	3. From Kings to Pawns

Author's Note: It's unedited, so sorry…um, the Black Light belongs to my friend Megan and if I didn't say so before Amissa Moon is not my character but was borrowed with permission. What else? Oh yes, insert shameless plug- I wrote a Charmed fanfic called "Lover's Leap" Chapter Three 

Aiden 'Phoenix' Hawke rose was the kind of man that rose when people entered the room. His easy smile was welcoming and civil, and the same if directed towards lords of industry or common men and that endeared him to everyone who knew him. He had his white hair slicked back and was nursing a small, well-trimmed bread giving this aura of age and styling that his mother had been known to despise. His blue eyes sparkled and teemed with a sort of teasing wisdom that was hidden under his stern face. He was tall, even when sitting, and downright towered over both Gideon and Severus when he greeted them. Phoenix reached over and took his hand, slightly bowing. "Hello, Armsman."

"I'd be more comfortable if you'd call me Alex or Severus, Sir."

"I thought you might, but my father said I shouldn't expect anything from you." Hawke smiled, before turning his attention to the other Auror. "Gideon it's good to see you. How are your hands?" 

            Gideon tugged on his cuffs nervously. Underneath his cuffs were deep ugly scars that tore through his wrists and made even the simplest of movements like holding a cup or picking up a book painful. It had been almost a year since Mordred attacked him and Gideon had yet to be able to perform a rudimentary charm. Severus glanced over and touched his shoulder. The Malfoy shrugged off his hand and straightened. "I'm fine, Hawke. Where is Sky?"

            "In the Seers Wing, probably..." Hawke answered. "Her and Chandra are probably busy with another kidnapping."

            "Correction: we're enjoying the spoils of our kidnapping." Shouted a voice from the behind them. Snape turned and smiled at Chandra Firestone as she entered. The red head pulled Snape into a warm embrace. "We've been dying for you to show up!"

            "I had to clear up some things before reporting." Snape apologized, kissing her on the cheek before releasing her to her husband and turning his attention to the two women that still waited. Sky Falls still looked like a mystic rather then an Auror, dressed in a Healer's light blue instead of the dark Navy, she pulled back her hair and revealed a white bandage over her eyes. 

            "Alexander Rouge," Falls drawled, coming to him. "I have to say, you look like crap."

            "Cecilia," Snape said, holding her at arms length. "Had I known I'd see a vision of loveliness like you on my first day, I would have dressed for the occasion." He turned to the younger woman. "I have to admit, I'm stunned by both you and your friend's beauty."

            "So this is the great Miracle Maker." The woman said, smiling softly. "And my namesake."

"I think you have me at a disadvantage…" Severus began, casting looks at Gideon and Aiden who now suddenly became interested in the ceiling.

"I'm sorry, Professor." The woman continued. "I didn't introduce myself. My name is Alexandra Van Ness."

Severus stepped back from her, looking back at Gideon again. This time the Auror smiled softly and shrugged. Snape forced up a smile although he was feeling a little queasy. Sydney had named a daughter after him? He hadn't even known Amissa was pregnant. 

"She wasn't." Alexandra said suddenly. When she saw his look, she apologized. "I'm a Seer, like my father was…a Touch-Know. You wouldn't have known that…he kept it a closely guarded secret." She released his hands and smiled apologetically again. "I shouldn't have read you. I didn't…"

"It's fine." He assured her, "Back at work, Sybil does the same thing." A thoughtful expression crossed his face. "I'm going to miss the warnings of death and decapitation."

Chandra frowned at the comment, looking at her husband when he touched her hand. He shook his head and whispered. "Severus never said he was coming back for good. It's a choice he'll have to make in time."

"Unless he already has made it." Aiden said, thoughtfully. "After all, he has a life back in England…a whole world."

Snape found himself looking away from them, and settling his eyes on Alexandra. He didn't want to worry about England right now. England held bad memories, and graves of love ones- the grave of his own daughter. Kaiya had been killed. On instinct, his mind began to search for other things that would or should occupy attention and it took considerable strength to force himself to remember her. He would not dishonor her by forgetting her, by folding her away into some dark corner of his mind, like he had with Billy and his family. That had caused too much pain, too many regrets. 

He didn't need anymore of either one.

"It's a choice he'll have to make, but not right now." Falls quipped. "Right now, the only thing he has to decide is if he's bringing the Whiskey or the Beer."

"To what?" He asked, nervously. The smiles that were erupting on the faces of his squad fellows were beginning to give him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Gideon groaned playfully. "That's right! This is the close-knit family…"

"Every Monday we all get together and get drunk for the rest of the week."  Sky explained. "Today it's going to be at me and Aiden's."

"Tsk, tsk, you're living together and aren't even married. Meow!" Gideon quipped and was promptly kicked for the comment.

Alexandra laughed. "Please say you'll come, Alex. I'm dying to get to know you."

"Be careful, she's a mini-Missa…a real heartbreaker."

"I learned well from step-mom." She confided. "So are you bringing whiskey or beer?"

"Whiskey for my men and beer for my horses." Hawke and Gideon said in union, apparently referring to some Auror joke Severus was not yet privy too. 

Chandra rolled her eyes. "Thank Merlin, you came home Severus. I was going to kill them if someone sane didn't come to help them first."

"Aw, you know you love us!"

"Like the plague."

"That's it! It's time I told you. I'm gay and me and Lexa are running off together. Aren't we Lexa?"

"Yes, ma'am. You're my only true love."

"Marry me?"

"We'd have to go Europe."

"I'll start packing."

Halfway through this conversation, the office door had opened and admitted a small Latino who met Aiden's eyes politely before bowing his head and waiting to be acknowledged. Severus turned slightly to take him in. He was not a commanding figure and looked even smaller and inconsequential when put beside Hawke or even Falls but Severus was instantly attracted to him. He was half-listening to Chandra and Lexa bicker and favored Severus with a smile that said this wasn't the first time the lovers had come out of the closet.

He waited till Lexa had fallen into Chandra's arms before speaking in a mellow voice thick with an accent that reminded Severus of his mother. Severus found himself leaning forward to hear the man clearly, to which the man responded by stepping forward, to be heard over the women's laughter. Clearly he was use to straining to be heard. "Beck hasn't checked in yet?"

It was then almost simultaneously; that the laughter died as the women threw sympathetic gazes at the man. Hawke only shook his head, "She hasn't, have you tried Fay?"

"Hasn't seen her." He answered, and suddenly looked tired. "You ordered her home, right?"

"It was a direct order."

"I know where she's at." He said, grimly as if he was about to undertake a task he was dreading with a passion. He sighed again, this time for strength and smiled at the group. "And I'm hurt Lexa, Chandra…I thought you guys loved me."

"Aw! We do love you, Diego!" 

Severus jumped back just in time to avoid being in the crossfire as Chandra, Lexa and Sky abandoned Hawke and Gideon to shower attention on the man. Diego laughed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a water gun to fend off the females. He smiled at Severus, and tossed him the gun. "You'll need that if you're going to work here."

Severus rolled the gun over in his hand and smirked. "And you are?"

"This is Diego Solis." Hawke said with enthusiasm.

"You're Crouch's Press Secretary?" Snape said, impressed. He found himself looking again over this small creature of man. "You're the one who had the world believing the Dark Prince was just a rumor during the first war…"

Diego pushed his hands into his pockets and shrugged sheepishly. "Yeah, but I can't seem to convince him to fight now when we need him…" He turned to Hawke, then back to Severus. "Look, I don't mean to cut you off, but I got to go find my wife…I would love to talk to you though. I want to hear first hand how you and your squad took down Rio Hecate." Severus was about to comment on how a civilian reporter knew about that classified mission but Diego merely flashed one of his embarrassed smiles. A smile that faded once he remembered his intended mission. He turned to Hawke. "We'll probably only drop by tonight. She won't be feeling well."

"I want you to take Severus with you. He needs to meet Beck Stallens if they're to be partnered."

Diego frowned and glanced at Severus. "I don't think that's a good idea, Cousin…"

"Please," Aiden cut him off. "I think it's very important that he understands what he's getting into." He turned to Severus. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not, sir." Snape picked up his coat again and threw looks to the others, wondering if they held some idea of what was in store for him but if they did, none of their faces showed it. 

The Black Light was one of those seedy bars that existed in the bad part of the city, under the dark side of the moon. This place was far from the comforts and security of Hecate or Mage's Weir and when Aurors passed here, the very walls themselves blinked and stared at the strange sojourners who dared visit. People and light retreated as Diego and Severus passed by, and then rushed back to their former place and leering dangerously at them. Snape met their eyes, and let his hand fall over his wand for them to see. Once these dark creatures bowed to him in fear and respect and it incest him that they no longer paid him the proper respect.

He was still a prince after all. Didn't that mean anything to these animals? Then he remembered that Mordred had defeated him and a shiver of fear ran the length of his body. He had the sneaking suspicion that the extent of his defeat was not fully known to him.

Diego's movements were assured as he pushed his way into the bar and to the bartender. Severus trailed behind, looking around at the faces, determined for some reason to protect this man before himself.

It must be the Auror in him coming back to the surface.

"Where is she Val?"

"Diego!" Cried a familiar voice in welcome. Snape's head snapped forward, staring at the bartender. It was the man everyone called Valentine. Valentine met his eyes, and his smile flickered slightly, glancing at Diego before back to him. Snape shook his head to assure the man he meant no ill will towards Solis. This seemed to comfort Val but the bartender still seemed too preoccupied to fully give Solis an answer. "Let me pour you a drink, Sol."

"Where's Beck?"

"I haven't seen her."

"Please." Diego forced out through gritted teeth, as he closed his eyes and inhaled. "I don't want to toy around tonight. Just…what room is it?"

"Room 3. Let me get her for you…"

"I got her." Diego said, moving towards the back of the bar, to where steps led up to the second floor. He was well accustomed to this routine. Snape moved to follow. 

"Let me pour you a Brandy, Professor." Valentine said, ignoring the other customers. "On the house."

"No." Diego said. "He's coming up too."

Valentine sighed, and nodded; looking as miserable as the women had back at Hecate. Severus knew there was something wrong with the picture but was only beginning to grasp the full possibility. He wanted to why an Auror was in a bar that was tended by a man who had been Lord Voldemort's personal barkeep and Silas' close friend and business partner. He also wanted to know what Valentine was doing so close to Hecate Compound. Questions he doubted he'd get a straight answer to if he asked.

Again, he felt the pang of having to start over. He had always known if he returned to Hecate nothing would be the same but he didn't think he would go from being trusted aide to the Dark Lord and Dumbledore to being as dumb and ignorant as any first level cadet fresh from boot camp.

At least last time, he had Billy with him.

The second floor was a hallway filled with simple doors that Snape assumed led to small, cramp bedrooms designed for the distinct purpose of one-night stands. He was getting a sick feeling in his stomach and looked at Diego, warily. Something told him he was about to feel a great swell of respect and pity for the reporter.

Diego had finally stopped in front of the door marked three and sighed. He seemed almost hesitant to open the door, but then, remembering Severus was with him, pushed opened the door aggressively.

The sight inside repulsed Severus.

It was indeed a bedroom with only the most Spartan items, a full size bed, a nightstand and a lamp whose light was flickering on and off. In the air was the odor of rancid liquor, and spices that were used to make certain drug like potions. On the floor, jeans and a dirty shirt was messed up and thrown atop an Auror uniform that had been creased with care beyond perfection. Severus noticed that the boots also looked like they were shined by someone who took pride in their uniform and in their cause. But the woman before him didn't seem to fit that image, and this puzzled him.

The woman was sprawled out on her back naked on the bed. She had her right arm over her eyes, and the left cradled over her chest. Her hair was short and blond from a bad dye job that revealed jet black underneath, and gave her a boyish appearance despite the age that was over her face. The Auror looked old, spent, and war torn. A large scar sliced her neck almost in half- he knew Jack the Ripper's work when he saw it- which made him think this woman was a able fighter, and probably one that enjoyed the thrill of war too much. Her left hand was awkward in the way it laid in slumber, fingers turned in and fanned slightly, revealing a very old burn on her palm that spiraled up her arm and was wrapped by newer scars and nicks. She probably favored it if she had any use of it at all. But despite it all, the woman still kept her body toned and poised ready for war.

Diego ignored the man that was curled up with his arms around her waist and went straight to the woman's ear. He brushed her cheek and kissed her forehead. "Ar..." He glanced behind him. "Becka, come on. Let's get up and go home." He stroked her forehead and then her shoulders with a loving kindness that spoke of his boundless devotion to her. "Come on, Beck…"

Becka Stallens moaned in her sleep and stretch, groaning from sleep and the remains of drunkenness. She opened one eye, and focused on Diego before scoffing angrily. "Diego, you bastard…get away from me."

"Beck, get up. I'm taking you home." Diego spoke firmer this time. "Don't make me…"

"Oh?" She laughed, rolling over and showing for a moment a glint of red tattooed on her back. "Are you going to try and punish me? I'd like to see you try."

"Beckett, don't act like this…"

"What other way do I act?" She demanded. She reached back to the nightstand, sitting up and drinking from the flask. She laughed when she saw Diego's face. "Oh don't act like some tortured angel, trust me, it doesn't…" It was then she saw Severus. Becka's face went blank, staring at him. "You're the prodigal?"

Snape met her eyes, wondering about the woman's reaction. "I am."

"Hawke, that fucking bastard, I swear I'll kill him. That spineless scum…" She exploded into a storm of curses and hexes. In this torrid of anger, she woke her lover and threw him off the bed. "Get out of here, Simon! The Aurors have come to arrest you." 

The Death Eater was Simon Roe, a devotee of Jack the Ripper who recognized Severus immediately. Simon ducked down, scurrying to put on his pants. "My Pri…I…didn't, milord…"

"Oh, stop sniveling Simon and just get out." Becka snapped. She pulled the bed sheet around her as she slipped on her pants with leisure. Diego stood now and went to the door to help Simon out cordially, as if he was a guest in his home rather then some random John his wife had cheated on. 

Snape knew he was going to revere Diego right there.

"So, they've gotten the Prince back at Hecate…" Becka said, softly as she stood and reached for his shirt. "Wonder who had to die."

Severus glanced at Diego warily and bowed his head again. "I'll leave you to tend to her, then." He said shortly, before stepping out of the room and retreating back down the stairs.

Valentine was waiting for him.

"You know," Valentine drawled softly, setting down a cup and motioning to another. "Diego means a lot to me, I'd be very upset if something happened to him."

Snape had to smile as he crossed to the bar. "What now, threatening a Prince? Has my fall from grace been so complete that I would lose even the most common courtesies?"

"I never really belonged to the Member's Only club, Armsman." Valentine quipped softly. He pulled up his sleeve on his left arm reveal a dark red tattoo over his wrist, where normally a Dark Mark would be. It was a small, dark red Phoenix, whose wings were spread over the head, embracing the date of the Day of the Dead. Severus glanced at him, curiously, to which the old barkeep merely smiled again. "The name is Romulus Valentine, Master at Arms, first class…IA Unspeakable division."

"You were an Unspeakable? I thought only Interrogators held that title."

Valentine shrugged. "I was a mole-hunter, under Ellis. My mission was to discover the Hecate Judas' spy contacts within the Death Eaters…later, after Day of the Dead, my mission became to run information for Saint Michael to and from Hecate."

Snape felt an incredible swell of disgust rise up in him at the name of his old enemy. He had never discovered Michael's true identity, after the confrontation in the cathedral Michael became to relay more heavily on his spies and couriers, never appearing in public again. His name gradually became a legend, a myth half believed but still wholly feared. Now, every business transaction and information leak made in the underworld was said to go through Michael or one of his sources, he had become like some great and powerful Oz, always revered but never seen.

Snape hated fearing what lingered in the dark. He turned his head up, "So, Michael lives?"

"Lives?" Valentine said, genuinely shocked. He stifled a laugh, and jerked his head to the stairs. "You just saw him…" A soft begrudged smile. "Or her…"

All the disbelief and astonishment must have gleamed from Severus' face. He was not a man accustomed to being surprised, and the thought of that creature who lied half-drunk in her own stupor being the infamous and powerful Saint Michael didn't seem to meld well at all with his theory of what a power should appear to be. "That…" He forced out, "is Saint Michael?"

"Where you expecting wings, Professor?" 

Snape's head snapped back to the stairwell where Beckett Stallens had emerged fully dressed with a look of contentment and arrogance on her face. She lifted her head slightly, to meet his eyes and waited for a response. In this moment, he could barely make out the ruthlessness and callous nature that must have made her feared and reviled.

But again, he saw nothing angelic in this abomination before him.

The room was large, lit by the moonlight, moaned with age and heaviness. Outside, in the Ardennes forests, wolves were howling and tearing through the snow after some intended kill. Inside, the Black Prince met with senior Death Eaters to plot war on the world. Large, great wooden tables spanned the length of the room and were covered with reports, maps and various items of importance to Mordred. The Prince was leaning over a map of Europe that was marked with Ministry of Magic headquarters and Auror hideouts. Underneath it was a global map with what appeared to be pencil marks crossing out various areas of the map.

"Is this what you have brought us here for?" Asked a voice that spoke with all the warmth of fresh blood. The speaker was a male as pale as the snow outside and just as cold to the touch. Coal black hair fell in lose curls around his slender, almost feline face. Eyes the color of sapphire gleamed green when the moonlight caught them, only to return to their dark, alluring blue. "Old maps and lofty dreams?"

A low growl came from across the room, as another man stepped forward. He was tall and stately, muscular from activity and predator-like in his stance, the smaller, dark haired men behind him put their hands on his arms warily. Sharp, round green eyes focused on the pale skinned visitor as thin lips curled in a wolfish grin. "This is Silas' handpicked protégé, Isaiah…you would do well to listen to him."

"The Vampires were never Silas' lapdogs like you were Ezra, I don't have to do anything."

"That is because Daniel was a fool, who got what he deserved."

"How dare you speak of Daniel with such disrespect!" Isaiah hissed, moving to attack. Ezra reared up in response only to have the smaller werewolves hold him back. A female vampire, white haired and amber eyed, reached over and merely grazed Isaiah's arms, causing the Coven leader to relax.

In the corner, Lucius Malfoy folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair to watch. Since news of the Dark Prince's defeat and Mordred's coronation reached him, Lucius had been wary of the young Prince and his decision to call upon the vampire and werewolves again didn't help matters. Mordred had his father's intelligence but Silas' thirst for blood; he had never tasted defeat or pain and Lucius wondered how a green warrior like Mordred- who knew only theory and no experience, could lead Voldemort armies to victory.

As a veteran of the first war, Lucius had no intention of losing as much as he had again.

A soft cough caught his attention and he glanced at Mordred's mistress and bodyguard. The twins, Mayon and Radella, were waiting in the far corner for their Prince to complete his business as well. They were last surviving members of Voldemort's Coven as far as Lucius knew and he got no comfort from the fact, they attended Mordred alone. 

The bickering between Ezra and Isaiah was starting up again, as their aides began to shift nervously in wait. Radella and Mayon kept casting wary looks at their Prince, wondering with the silent man would speak. He had summoned them all hear an hour ago but instead of explaining his reason, he had let them bicker and assume. Now, with night reaching its demise, both parties grew silent in expectation and frustration. 

"If," Mordred Eames finally spoke. As he started, his voice was low, barely above a whisper but it rose in tempo and pitch as he continued, weaving an intricate spell to the listener with his smooth, rich voice that beckoned back images of his grandfather Kaiser Snape, or his uncle Jesse. He spoke with all the force and commanding of a god poised to receive his throne. "We are done fighting amongst ourselves, we can focus on what we truly want."

"And what is that?" One of Isaiah aides asked, her keen eyes focusing on Mordred.

The Black Prince lifted his head. "Revenge. Pure and simple." Ezra scoffed, and Radella moved, stopping only when her brother held her hand. "Although, Hecate Compound on a platter wouldn't hurt."

"You have our attention."

"The Dark Prince is defeated, and with no Death Eater willing to protect him here, he ran to the only place he knows I can't touch…yet." Mordred drawled, walking around the length of the table to them. "And because of his loyalty and service to Albus Dumbledore, I can guarantee Hecate will believe and follow his plans blindly. There lies our chance, the Prince- while great and mighty- was predictable and a fool. I ask you only to honor the alliance you made with Silas those years ago."

"You are not Silas." 

"I'm better. Silas was driven by his own lusts and ambition. My goal is clear. I want Hecate and Hogwarts destroyed."

"And what of the Dark Prince's head?" Ezra countered. "It's common knowledge that you want his blood. If we agree to join you, how do we know that desire won't over power you?" 

"The mutt has a point." The Vampire aide continued, Isaiah glanced at her but said nothing, instead, waiting for Mordred to answer. "We risk open war if we defy Hecate. Plus there are rumors some of the senior Death Eaters swear no loyalty to you."

"And we would be breaking faith with Saint Michael." Now it was a werewolf who spoke. He was young, and probably was like Mordred in having never before tasted war. "Michael promised protection and peace if we went under. He has given us both."

"What would you give us?"

 The door opened on the far side of the room, and every head snapped to attention. Mayon and Radella rose to protect to their Prince. The werewolves growled softly and rose, fingers sprayed out to as if they were claws extended for a kill. The Vampires were the only ones who didn't react, save for Isaiah who moved a little closer to his aide. Lucius Malfoy merely tilted his head and waited.

A figure walked into the room, dressed in a brown cloak with the hood drawn around the face and hands arched in front of him. "Leave Michael to me." The figure spoke. "My honorable Prince has given him to me as a gift, and in return I will deal with his…traitors."

"And who are you?" Isaiah whispered.

The figure looked to Mordred who nodded. Slowly, gingerly and as if the movement caused him great pain, the man withdrew his hood to reveal cobalt blue eyes. 

"I am called Choice."

So entranced were the leaders of the creatures that no one, not even Radella and Mayon noticed Lucius rise and steal away from the room.


	4. And Pawns to Kings

Come on people and review, I'm beginning to feel unloved. Anyways, enjoy.

**Chapter Four: **

            Mordred had waited till Ezra, Isaiah and their aides filed out of the room before pulling a dagger and leveling it on Choice's throat. Like his mother, Mordred revered close quarter combat. His knives were stainless steel with a deadly, slow-acting poison (developed by the Dark Prince for his lover) burned unto the blade. It was designed so that even if the victim survived the cut, they would not survive the venom. 

It was so much like Mordred was, a combination of the Dark Prince and Jack the Ripper, all of their skills and prowess with none of their inhibitions and faults. He was all at once Silas without pride, Jacqueline without blood lust and Severus without humanity. A child bred like the Coven was bred: completely loyal to the Dark Arts. He had been cared for by some of the Prince's greatest enemies and allies for the distinct purpose of one day bringing about his demise. Jacqueline had allowed him to live because she knew he would be her strongest tool against her and Silas' creation. Silas weaned him on Dark Arts, and it's dealing and how to keep it under a perfect, unmarred mask. Eoin had undertaken his formal training, teaching how to fight the Auror inside of Severus, and that great and sinister teacher known as Imre teaching him how to fight the Prince.

Severus himself had taught Mordred. When he had come of age, Mordred had been sent to Hogwarts where Snape, fresh from Azkaban, had begun teaching the same. Being a Gryffindor, Severus ignored Mordred for the most part- except during class and only then to find fault. His only memories of his father were the cold, short sentences in which Snape addressed him only as Eames. During those days, he had hated Snape, more so then he did now. This great man couldn't recognize his own son? Had Azkaban broken him? Had humanity broken him? It was then Mordred had fully understood his divine crusade in life. He would destroy the man who'd been given the world and threw it away. 

"You better have one hell of a good reason for coming here and acting like you're loyal to me." Mordred said quietly, pressing the blade against Choice's neck.  "Last time I saw you, you were trying to kill me. Now, are you brave or just suicidal?"

"I was told to come." Choice whispered. "Imre believed I could be of use to you…"

"You'd do well to befriend Imre right now, my friend. You're going need his death dealing."

"Get your hands off him before you'll end up needing him." 

Mordred pulled his hands off Choice as soon as he heard the voice of Imre's guardian. The man entered, followed by Imre Macardit himself. The demon crossed into the room with all the air of barely contained power that made all Death Eaters fear and envy him. 

Imre's reputation came like all of the great Death Eaters had, birthed from half-truths and fed by the imagination of those weaker and intimidated by this silver haired magician. It was said that even Eoin Malone, Voldemort's herald and chamberlain, feared Imre's power because he was said to hold the power of life and death in his frail hands. But Imre himself never showed his power, relying rather on any show of strength to be displayed by his guardian. This fallen Auror was never seen without his Master. They said that he was killed and Imre enslaved his soul to serve only the Necromancer. It seemed true too, because despite all his evident power, the Auror never so much as closed a door without Imre's blessing. Only Imre could control him, and only Imre knew the full, devastating truth about him. 

"Now, now, Daemon." Imre chided calmly. He reached over and patted the golem's arm. "Mordred was just venting his anger, weren't you?"

"Actually, I was about to kill this traitor."

"Kill him," Radella reminded him, "And you lessen Voldemort's defenses against a mortal death. Imprison him."

            "If you want to protect Lord Voldemort from a mortal death, you'd listen to what Imre is proposing." Choice said, suddenly. He moved and sat on the desk, calmly as if he held all the cards and was controlling the situation. "He's found a way to give Voldemort what he truly desires…"

            "Why would you care what Voldemort wants?" Mordred countered. 

            "Because it'll bring Kaiya back."

            "Now, I know he's lost his mind." Mayon spoke up, his hand idly tracing Coven spells unto the air. "No spell can reawaken the dead."

            "Have you learned nothing, Coven?" Imre asked, sitting down in the seat his guardian offered. As he sat, he began to idly twirl his cane between his hands. Mayon began to shift uncomfortably.  "Spells, and spoken incantations are the most rudimentary forms of magic. There is a type and breed older then written or spoken word. You are Coven, you know by merely signing a character of a dead language unto the air you can tap into a greater, consuming power." Mayon was beginning to struggle for air, as Radella and Choice started to shift from the pain they sensed. As the last members of the Coven, the mental bond they felt with each other was stronger then before, letting both feel Mayon's approaching death. "But you…not being naturally born into the power are weak. Fragile." 

            Mayon fell to his knees, struggling for air. Radella felt Choice grab her arm for support. Mordred stood entranced- both horrified and awed by this display.

            Imre was still twirling his cane. 

            "For years people have tried to tap into the greater depths of magic- through cults and ethnic cleansings…even the Muggles have, with their Hispanic witch doctors and Voodoo priests. " He was saying. "Slytherin himself believed that purity of blood was the key, a principal adopted by Hecate's cult of mystics who call themselves the Kaga- keepers of pure magic and those who would protect it. They're right too. The magic has to be in your blood, in your very make up. To control death, you cannot learn to defeat it. You must be born into it." 

            And as if something just occurred to him, Imre looked up- breaking his eye contact with his cane. Mayon collapsed on the floor as air came rushing into his lungs. Choice and Radella both exhaled, and helped him up. 

"I have study my craft for years beyond your comprehension." Imre was focused intently on Mordred. "And only now, had I discovered what could make my sorcery complete."

"You've found the key to true immortality?" 

"Better, I've found Death incarnate. The ultimate truth, the ultimate evil is made real and corporeal. Think about it, which such a tool Voldemort could control not only this world, but also whatever one lies beyond. Imagine him, not just a lord but a god."

            Mordred couldn't explain the sensation he felt in his soul at Imre's words. He could feel the weight and conviction behind the old man's words and knew in his heart, they were true. Something was being birth in Mordred, something he had never understood or felt before but he knew he couldn't show it. Not yet. "Where do us petty mortals come in?"

"St. Michael has long known of Voldemort's quest for immortality and was wise to learn exactly what Voldemort had. He knew of this tool was bound to be discovered and has spent years trying to discover it before I did. Three days ago, Michael stole it from me and has taken it to where he knows the Death Eaters can't touch it."

"Yet." Choice said, mirroring Mordred's earlier speech.

"Michael has taken the weapon to Hecate?"

"Why not?" Imre said, "With the Kaga there, what better place to secure a weapon of such magnitude?"  
            "How did Michael convince Hecate to take it?"

"Michael is an Auror." Choice supplied, simply. He was staring at his hands. "An Auror that Kaiya was very close friends with in later years. He trusts me, I can get to him and find out where the tool is being hid and what are the Aurors doing to try and defeat Voldemort. I can deliver Michael to you."

"Which would be enough to convince the vampires to join you during the final battle." Imre advised, "You need both the vampires and the werewolves if you hope to defeat Hecate, and Hogwarts- the Death Eaters aren't strong enough alone. The werewolves you have, Ezra likes you but the vampires are fiercely loyal to Michael. If you prove to Isaiah you can destroy Michael, then you've proven that you can destroy Hogwarts and Hecate."

"How do we know we can trust him?" Mordred said, jutting his chin towards Choice.

Imre glanced at the prodigal, and smiled. "Because he knows if he betrays me, I can send Kaiya into a hell where he'll never see her again, in any life."

"Are you coming tonight?" 

"I might come by later, right now I have killer hangover and something very important I have to take care of."

"Am I allowed to know what it is?"

"No."  

"At least your honest." Hawke said, deciding a change in subject would be better then attempting to butt heads with his counterpart. "Oh, I heard about what happened in the bar, Beckett. What did you think you were doing, calling Alexander the Prince in public? What if you were heard?"

"Everyone in that bar knew the Dark Prince was defeated, Phoenix. The underworld has been talking about nothing else since May. Another thing? That…demon you've got helping us is not Alexander Rouge. Rouge died a hero with his squad."

"Is that what the scene was all about? Merlin, that was almost twenty years ago."

Beckett Stallens stopped in the hall and kept her eyes staring impassively at the space in front of her. Her fists seemed to quiver and eyes swell with a wealth of emotion she refused to release. "And they're still dead."

"It wasn't his fault they died. He couldn't have saved them…"

"No, but he could have at least been there."

"How long will you hold that inside of you? It's destroying you. Don't you see that? This isn't you. You were Kaga once. That has to mean something…"

"Don't look into the abyss too long, Phoenix. It'll consume you." Becka was studying him through lids half-closed with sleep. Her entire body was aching from the booze and work but still her spoke with all the security of a well-dressed counterpart. "Now, tell me why you called me back."

Hawke inhaled sharply and turned to study a window. "Who is this man I've granted asylum to?"

"He is the Dark Prince. A man who made war, not butchery and will serve this army as he has his own."

"But he will not deliver You-Know-Who directly to us, will he?"

"His loyalty is a double edged sword. He will help you but it'll be on his terms. You cannot ask him to betray his personal code of honor." Becka said. "It's all he has left."

"But I can I trust him? My father says yes, but I cannot overlook the doubt in my mind. Snape's been too long out of uniform, and in the shadows. How do I know I can trust the Dark Prince?" He turned to look at Becka again. "Voldemort's prized soldier? Too many people depend on me to fight this war, how can I do that with a Judas on my hands?"

"And now not only do you have me on your hands, but a Potions Master who looks like Bela Lugosi." 

Hawked stopped himself, frowning. Before he could say anything, Becka had walked calmly two steps in front of him.  He tilted his head. "You don't believe he's a Judas?"

"I think he's a war profiteer and believer in purity of blood." Becka said, calmly. "But he is no more a traitor to Hecate then you are. I'm the only Judas still alive from those times."

"You've only done what you had too…"

"Why did you call me back?" She countered. The way she folded her arms over her chest and watched him was such that it could always intimidate even an older, stronger man like Hawke. Again, and like it was an ill-fitting robe, she had shed the appearance of sloppiness for almost sage-like stillness, possessing a wealth of power and wisdom unseen through her dim eyes. "Was he the only reason?"

"No." Hawke allowed. He looked at her, trying to see pass this guise as he had the drunkenness and wondering which was the true nature. "Three days ago a group of Muggle Voodoo priests were slaughtered in West Africa. Governor Drame of Arsan Duolai sent three Kaga to investigate. They said it looked like the priests were trying to defend something, something that was stolen."

"If this concerned you, why didn't you ask me to go with them?" She murmured. "I had just come from Africa to England when you called me back. I was only a fireplace away from returning."

"An odd coincidence, don't you think?"

"I believe in coincidences, coincidences happen everyday."

"You said they were practitioners of Voodoo, it means they believed they could conjure the dead." She was staring idly at her hands. "What does the local governments say?"

"The government believes it was mercenaries or drug traffickers, that the Voodoo priests were protecting gold or diamonds. Something easily traded on the black market."

"They were men of faith. They would have had no need for currency."

"Then what were they protecting?"

"Samedi." 

Hawke stopped, and watched as the woman continued ahead of him, towards the private wing of the Kaga Companions. She was going to see the head of the Kaga Order, in regards to whatever she had discovered in Africa. He knew she had discovered something, he could see it in her eyes. They held the passion only felt when someone embraced a cause worth dying for. It was something he had not seen in that woman for many years. 

She had was been the Companion of a powerful Auror once, before she was shamed and went into a self-imposed exile. Upon returning she had done her duty with none of her former conviction. 

Odd, that she would find it again in death, Hawke thought to himself. He turned and continued to his home.


	5. Those that I guard I do not Love

Author's Note: This chapter is kind of funky in the way it's spaced but I think it adds to it. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and I can ask you to be kind to Becka. She doesn't mean to be so evil, but god isn't she grand? Anyways, forgive the mistakes and share the love, review!

**Chapter Five:**

"Samedi." Hawke announced as he prodded the food with a folk. The ribs, fajitas and chicken legs sizzled angrily over the grill and popped as the juices exploded, causing the aroma to waft upwards. He smiled at his achievement, " Or actually, Baron Samedi if you want to be proper, is a deity in the Voodoo religion. His domain is Death."

Becka Stallens sipped her coke and Whiskey. She was watching Snape who had his hands firmly in his pockets and thoughtful gaze on his face. She smirked. "Samedi was Death?"

"No," Hawke said, like a child reciting a well-rehearsed lesson. "He was the guardian of the Dead. He took souls between worlds." He looked up, watching her closely. "It was said he could be invoked to do favors, including making Zombies for would-be Necromancers. Want to tell me what you found?" 

Becka finally took her eyes off Severus and turned to study the fire. "I can't explain it, Hawke. You're going to have to trust me." She turned back at him. "Like you're going to have to trust him."

Hawke inhaled, and stabbed the fire watching it crack and burst. "How can I trust people like you?"   

"Alex, darling, why are you shaking?" 

"I'm just tired, that's all. It's a nervous habit I picked up in England."

"We'll have to break you of that, darling. I can't have my heroes being jumpy, can I?"

"No, I suppose not."

Snape turned and regarded the woman who gave her full attention to Chandra, and Snape the chance to study her. He had known Evelyn Faraday years ago, as Evelyn Moore, Becka and Billy's cousin. And in the years that had passed, she hadn't lost her constant smile or her affinity for referring to everyone as 'darling.'

 "Oh Darling!" She was calling to her daughter. "Watch your brother!"

"I am watching him!" Nadia was leaning against the back fence. Her brother, William raced towards her, kicking a soccer ball at her. Nadia smirked, and kicked it towards the pale, auburn haired girl that was sitting Gideon's knee. Mallory smiled and kissed his daughter on the cheek before letting Pandora run off with the Faraday kids. 

Dora took a shot at Hawke and Becka, who were standing near the grill. Becka glanced at Dora and tried not to smile. She kicked the ball back towards the children as Hawke called her attention back to whatever conversations they were sharing.

Snape's keen eyes found Becka. She was watching him watch her. He felt somewhere deep down he couldn't trust this woman, no matter what the others believed. She was Saint Michael, and he knew what Michael was.

Michael's actions had led to Melanie's death and who knows how many more- on both sides. Loyalty like hers was sold to the highest bidder. People like that knew nothing of honor, duty and sacrifice. Things that he clung to for life and sanity. 

Things that he would die to protect from her. 

Things he would kill to protect.

"He watches you like an enemy." Hawke said, keeping his eyes down. With one hand, he was guiding the food and keeping the fire in check and with the other, he touched her arm. 

Becka flinched from his touch. "He'd kill me if he had the chance." 

"Such callous comes from bitterness, bitterness comes from knowledge." Hawke glanced at Becka. "What does he know, that I don't?"

"He knows what I am." She said as an aside. "And what I was."

"What was he?" 

Snape was asking about the past now. They could hear him over the children's laughter. Hawke was watching Becka. Becka was watching Snape and Snape had his eyes on Chandra. Time was beginning to blur now, in Becka and Severus' minds, corrupting what was real to that was imagined. 

"What was he?" Hawke repeated.

"Just a memory." She whispered.

"What happened after I left?" Snape asked, but neither Evelyn nor Chandra seemed willing to answer.

"Left when?"

"After Billy…" 

Hawke saw Becka inhale sharply at the sound of the man's name. She closed her eyes and took a long drink of the Whiskey. 

Severus was shaking again. Twenty years of ignored history was now coming up to the surface, and he found himself questioning everything that he had taken for granted as truth. He wondered how much of what he knew was real, and how much was just Death Eater lies.

"Internal Affairs slammed down on Smith's command and anyone who knew Billy. His death was the first widely known act by the Hecate Judas. IA destroyed your old wing, Severus…"

In the world he had ruled as Prince, truth was just a lie undiscovered but now he was at Hecate, where everything was black, and white or the color of blood. He was only now beginning to realize how much blood.

"It was a witch-hunt. Gideon, Jude, Sydney…Erised, all of them were disgraced rather then denounce anyone."

Snape looked away, remembering the last time he had seen Sydney alive. If he had only listened to the man that day in Diagon Alley, if he had had faith and believed in the squad and returned to Hecate, nothing would have happened…

And no one would be dead…

"Becka, are you okay?" Hawke whispered.

"Fine, fine." She murmured. She was pouring herself another drink, trying to shut away the sounds that were invading her ears. It was a deep buzzing, like so many bugs clustering around a dead body- looking for food and shelter. She abandoned the coke and took a long, releasing drink of the whiskey.

Anything to shut out the voices. 

"Jude and Sydney were killed, they never found Sydney's body…Amissa got a promotion, she was named leader of the Rune Masters, helped rebuilt the school. That's the same time Gideon took his teaching position.  It was so funny to see them working together to rebuilt the Academy. For a while, I thought they were going to get back together…Um, the Kaga that was assigned to replace you quit his commission…what was his name?"

"Jean Andre." 

"Yes, Andre worked as a Medic. Until he went looking for Erised."

The name, once spoken, was like invoking a ghost for Severus. The name brought to mind the image of this creature that, unlike Billy and the rest, was never thought about, never remembered. She had taken on a persona of a ghost, lingering near but always out of reach, always invisible but important.  She was just another person that he had injured and wronged, he told himself, nothing more. It made it easier that way.

Becka had her eyes on Snape's face and she was making no attempt to hide. She wanted to see his face. Wanted to see how he would respond to the name of the creature that had ruined her life to save his. She wanted to see him react to her. She wanted to see Snape suffer or squirm, something that would prove there was still a heart beating within that chest of his, to prove that that heart still existed, however small, however black- but still beating, still alive. She wanted to see if there was anything left of the Auror she had known, had bleed with and suffered with. She wanted to see if there was anything of the Alexander Rouge she remember still surviving within this man before her.

Instead all she saw was the cool, exterior of a man who had years to prefect his features. A man who could wear a mask not of alabaster and gold, but of flesh and still show nothing but indifference. 

She could not see the world of emotion that was running just below his skin, like veins of blood surging towards its source, always there but never seen. 

For Snape was remembering.

Was remembering something half surreal, half corporeal; a relationship that excelled love. A relationship beyond family and friendship, something mysterious and tangible but as fleeting as the seasons.

And like the season, faded with time and misuse. He had long since rationalized the memories, to dull them and make it something he could live with. He had dehumanized it, sterilized it and made it something simple and defined. 

And now, so many years later, it was finished and banished into dream and memory.

"Dream and memory." He whispered, as if speaking the words aloud would cement it, and cause it to be driven back into his mind.

"Would you like to know what happened to her?" It was Becka's voice now, loud and half slowed by the liquor in her system. She walked to Snape. "Or perhaps you just want to know the truth. How bout I tell you about how Sydney turned into a drunk rather then face the truth or how Malachi was driven mad? How before it was done Erised was begging for death, how she turned and now is no better then a common whore?"

Snape found himself on his feet, clutching Becka's neck. Disgust and righteous anger curled around each other and reared up inside of him, vying for a place. His anger and pain- directed both within and without was funneled to this traitorous woman. It was only fear of allowing the Prince take over again that stayed his hand from killing her.   "Don't you dare speak of them like that, do you hear me? You have no right."

"And what right do you have?" She demanded. "You think coming here is going to change anything? The only reason you're here is because you're running again. Like you did then, and like you always do. I saw them die!" She shouted angrily. The children stopped playing and turned to stare. "I watched as they dragged Jude away, as they killed my brothers. I felt my bones break as they attacked me. I felt the Ripper's knife inside my throat." She stepped closer to him, lowering her voice so only he could hear her. "And I know you _watched _too_. _You were right there with them, killing our kind." She spoke louder now, "And you loved it, didn't you? That's the worst part."

"Becka, Hecate's calling." 

Diego had appeared on the back porch. He stared at the scene before sighing and looking at Severus nervously. In his eyes were written anguish and regret, and he seemed to want nothing more on earth then to comfort Snape at that moment. Snape looked at him and thought it was odd, how a being as gentle and tender as Diego appeared to be could possibly cope with the storm that Becka was.

"Becka." Diego called again, walking to them. He put an arm on Severus' and pushed him back, ever so gently. "Hecate says she's throwing another tantrum."

            Becka stopped arguing raced inside the house, to the Floo. Snape stared at her retreating figure, feeling anger and disgust for her soothe and settle, nestling for another time, and place.

            "I'm sorry about her," Diego whispered. The weight of his hand on Severus' arm seemed unbearable and alien. It was a sincere gesture of comfort, meant to alleviate the pain, but Snape, unaccustomed to this, shrugged him off. Diego mistook this. "She isn't like this…I promise. It's just…"

            "I know. It's just me." He nodded at Diego easily, and turned to Hawke. "This isn't going to work, you know."            Hawke was staring at the fire again, looking deep into the food and flames as if staring into them long enough would bring him enlightenment. "I know."


	6. No Greater Thing Then This

Author's Note: Show love and review!

**Chapter Six:**

There were few things on earth more pleasurable or more fulfilling after a long, grueling day then walking down Hecate's marble halls at midnight and carrying a bowl of pilfered ice cream. The feel of the cold marble underfoot, sometimes muted barely by socks was only accented and enhanced by the slick that caused Severus to slid like a child when going too fast on it. The bowl in his hands was cold and water condensed on its sides, making outlines of his fingers.  He smiled to himself like a child who had successfully gotten away with some caper. He pushed open the door to the office he shared with Hawke and the others, and moved in quietly to his seat, now stocked and prepared to catch up on the reports.

He had barely opened the first one when the door opened, and in crept Diego Solis. The reporter didn't notice Severus at first, making his way purposefully and swiftly to Becka's cluttered desk, mumbling to himself in Spanish. He was complaining about the darkness and his fear of Hecate at night Snape discerned, thanks to his old mentor, Vargas. 

Snape couldn't resist. Rising up and leaning against his desk, he whispered. "Boo!"

Diego jumped and spun about in fright, bursting into laughter when he saw Snape. His whole body shook with mirth. Snape liked Diego, the way he wore his emotions on his sleeve and the soft, unsure smiles that seemed to constantly grace his small face. He liked the way Diego leaned forward when Snape strained to hear him, and how his accent brought back memories of his mother. His voice was low, and correcting- not meant to chide but merely instruct. He acted like Snape was some wayward child instead of a feared Death Eater. 

"Don't do that to me, Sevisto." Diego rebuked when he caught his breath and his face had finished turning purple. "You know I have enough boogiemen in my life as it is."

"I know." Snape agreed; he had sat on his desk to talk with Diego while he ate his ice cream. The backlog of work lay forgotten. "After all, you're married to one."

"That's not fair." Diego defended, although he was smiling. "Becker isn't that bad. She's just…"

"Heartless? Cruel? Harsh?"

"Disillusioned. She really is a wonderful person."

"How can you believe that?" Snape leaned forward, trying to unite Diego and Becka into something he could understand. "If you don't mind me asking, why did you marry her?"

"I was saving her life." Diego laughed bitterly, as if the memory both amused and haunted him. "You know the first time we met, she saved mine. Death Eaters had me cornered and she just appeared, like some sort of guardian angel. Found out later who she was, Dumbledore's Companion."

            "Girlfriend?"

            "Kaga." Diego saw his look. "Yeah, I know. Usually they're off limits to civilians but I was married at the same time so it was a mutual forbidden love affair."

            "I know the feeling."

            "Danielle, my wife." He continued. "She was that kind of woman who set my clothes out for me the day before, had my daily roster set out by breakfast on the table by every morning. 'A place for everything and everything in its place' was her motto. Had our son dressed and fed every morning at seven sharp so I could take him to school too. Delano was just like his mama…" 

            "What happened?"

            "I fell in love with Becka. She was strong, passionate and adventurous too. She wasn't like anything I'd ever seen before. I fell head over heels for that incredible drive she seemed to ooze out. I got a divorce from Danny, got my son and moved into a private apartment. Becka wasn't interest at all, mind you, but that didn't matter. Just her coming over and hanging out was heaven for me. After the Dark Times, we dated off and on, but I knew she didn't want me. I heard rumors that she had lost her true love in the war. Maybe she did too. I know after the war, she changed…became more distant, heartless, cruel. It's like she lost something that I couldn't find for her. I could only…" He was speaking as if what Becka was now was something brought upon her, a disease or an evil spell she wasn't responsible for. "We're still newly weds you know. I married her two years ago. Thought I could change her, I guess. Guess I was wrong."

            "You could always leave her, you know. Start anew." Snape said softly. 

"I couldn't. I'm only thing keeping her alive."

Snape had been watching the happiness that shone in Diego's eyes when he spoke of Danielle and watched as that turned sad and melancholy with what followed. Diego had been guilty of loving someone unworthy of love but that was all. Snape could not identify with it but was touched by it. He felt the empathy that one human being felt for another and wanted to comfort Diego. He moved to sit besides Diego on Becka's desk, tapping him playfully on the shoulder with his. He smiled at him knowingly. 

"Love sucks, don't it?" 

Diego burst into laughter again and nodded. "Yeah…But God help me, I love her."

"That must be nice." Snape said softly. He sighed and looked out the window, putting his arm around Diego as he did. He might not have known someone worth Diego's devotion, but he knew something of fighting-and dying- to keep a love one. As he thought this, his mind and heart found Jacqueline's memory. A soft, bittersweet smile took his lips. 

When this was all over, he was going to find Jackie and steal her away to some forgotten island. He was going to find her and be happy.

He deserved that, after all.

"He's gone mad!" Lucius said, tearing off his mask and throwing it into fireplace. The fire burst and sputtered around the ivory mask before the fire threw it out again. The Charms that were meant to protect the wearer would protect the mask now, despite anything and now that served only to haunt Lucius of the unwavering bond that connected him to this world of darkness. "He'd kill us all!"

Narcissa stumbled over herself running down to the stairs. She clutched at her thin, silken robe, trying desperately to cover herself up before going to her husband's side. She fell to his side as he sunk into a chair. "What's wrong, Lucy? What are you talking about?"

Lucius' head was bowed, and his hands were rubbing across the length of his pant, clawing desperately for some balance to cling to. His mind was swimming with disorder and pain. "He'll destroy us." 

"Who?"

"Voldemort! Mordred! They're joining forces with the Werewolves."

"I thought you said Ezra and Isaiah weren't up to it."

"They weren't but Mordred's been after them for weeks. He's convinced Ezra that the Death Eaters strong enough to fight off Hecate while Voldemort attacks Hecate. He's talking an open war!"

"Lucius, calm down…" Narcissa said, gripping her husband's arm. 

"How can I calm down when the world has gone mad?" He asked.

Before him the Elysian Fields, the legendary home of the Malfoy family, leered silently over him, around him, through him. The mantle in the den was dark ebony, carved with large, looming snakes that twisted and entwined with each other, l crawling up the wall, enshrining a large portrait of his father. The senior Malfoy stared down at his youngest son with silent, accusing eyes that caused Lucius to writhe under the gaze.

Lucius knew, painfully and acutely, of the weight of that gaze. He had wrestled under it for years now until his hair had turned white, and nightmares took corporeal form. Even the weight of Narcissa's hand on his arm seemed unbearable but he clung onto it for life. It was all he had on earth, all that he had fought so desperately to keep. Turning his head, he met her eyes. Eyes that were simple and frightened and looking to him for direction like they always had, even when she was his brother's wife, Narcissa had sworn her heart to his care. A crusade that he had fought religiously for; Narcissa and their son, Draco was all he had left. He would not lose them. He could not lose them.

Like he had lost his brothers.

His head was ringing with fights and betrayals years old, that seemed to echo in the Fields by ghosts who still lingered, just beyond to shade- screaming at the top of their lungs to anyone who dared listen. 

"If you leave now, Gideon, you aren't coming home! I will not have a traitor to their blood in my house!"

_"This is my house too but I wouldn't ruin my pants kneeling to a man like Riddle! A half-blood, no less!"  
            "He is the only safety he have!"_

_"I will not hide behind him!"_

_"And to spite him, you would turn your back on us? On your family, Gideon!"_

_"I am doing this for my family! As Silas and Lucius' brother, and as your son…"_

_"You are not my son!"_

That was the last time he had seen Gideon, when the boy, barely seventeen, barely out of Hogwarts had stood at the front door of the only home he had known and stared into the eyes of his brothers for a goodbye. Lucius remembered wanting to run to Gideon, to take him into his arms one last time but feeling Silas' arms on his shoulders, he hadn't.

He had done nothing to stop Gideon that night. He half wondered if he had, would things have changed at all? Would Gideon's presence beside Silas and him made things better or worst?

Would Silas still be dead today? 

_"My lord…you've been betrayed. By my brother Silas."_

_            "You're lying."_

_"My Prince, why would I speak against my brother?"_

_"To get his wife perhaps?" _

"It's true, I betray my brother by coming to you in hopes of saving Narcissa's life…he's mad, my Prince. He's going to kill Melanie, and try to kill you…and I know he'll fail. I just want Narcissa to be all right. Do what you will to my brother, and nephew…but leave her."

It was true. Lucius had killed his own brother for his wife. He had turned Silas over to the Dark Prince in hopes that saving Narcissa would make every guilt from that moment go away, but it never did. In fact, it had made it worst. Now, because of that sin, everything he had gained from it- the Elysian Fields, his son, his wife…all of it would one day be taken from him. That's the way of the world. 

Everything had a price, every crime a cost. 

And one day, maybe today, he'd pay it. 

He turned finally letting his eyes linger on Narcissa's. He took her hands into his, and kissed her gently. She curled into his embrace willingly. 

"The world has gone mad, Cissa." He whispered, sounding tired, very tired.

"We'll get by, Lucy." She soothed. "As long as we have each other…as long as we love each other."

Jacqueline dropped the glass she was holding as she swept around to look at the adjacent darkened room from where she swore she heard a noise. Her hands fell behind her, to grip the kitchen counter as she craned her neck forward, fearful to enter the room. For a long time the only sound she made were the short, uneven breaths she took as she strained to see. Nothing happened in the room, not so much as a window's curtain flutter or a stray cat's uneasy meow. Finally, after a long moment, the once feared Death Eater relaxed and laughed a little to rebuild her strength. 

She squatted on the ground and began to pick up the shards of glass with trembling, bony hands that fidgeted endlessly. She laughed in disgust. Once feared and revered, she had been Jack the Ripper. The first Death Eater to fight and win against Aurors. The first Death Eater to gain notoriety in the newspaper. The original boogieman. Now, look at her. She was a trembling old Frenchwoman, locked away in her villa, waiting death.

As they did so often nowadays, her thoughts traveled to Severus. She thought him, also hiding and trembling but doing it with that style and grace that had made him exceptional in all things. She smiled briefly, tilting her head so slightly and catching, just for a moment, the scent of him on the air. 

She sat up, resting her hands on her knees trying to find that scent again. She leaned her head all the way back, closed her eyes and inhaled…

It was then she felt the cold blade of a knife against her throat. She exhaled, and opened her eyes to look upon her murderer.

"So," She whispered. "Mordred has sent you…"

"Yes, milady."

 "If you don't mind, I want to clean up this mess first."

He removed the knife, and stepped back. She thanked him and continued to pick up the broken glass, throwing them into the trashcan. "I know you probably won't answer, but why are you doing this?"

"Have you ever lost your heart for someone?"

Again, Jackie smelled Snape's cologne. She smiled. "Yes, I think I have."

"That's why."

"Most people damn themselves for power, or greed…" She said, standing and walking to him. "You and Severus are the only ones I know willing to lose your soul for love." She turned so her back was facing him, and lolled her head back again. She pulled her hair back, over one shoulder and waited. "I hope it's worth it."

"So do I."

"Make sure it's a clean cut." She said, "I don't want to make another mess."


	7. The Gathering

It's unedited but I'll post a cleaner version later. Enjoy and review.

**Chapter Seven:**

            "You know what this place needs?"

            "A spa?"

            "Mini-bar?"

            "Hot men running around shirtless?"

"I still stand by my Mini-bar statement!"

Remus Lupin laughed as he collapsed into a couch in the Teacher's Lounge. Astra Sinistra and Roland Vector were huddled together in an oversized chair, smiling at him contently. In the far corner, McGonagall, Binns and Flitwick were playing poker and from the looks of it, Binns was cleaning up nicely. Another teacher was reading the Quidditch scores in the Daily Prophet and scribbling furiously on a notepad. Remus smiled. He had missed the Hogwarts Gambling Pool. Teachers at Hogwarts, contrary to popular belief, made up just as motley a group as the students. But, unlike the students, the teachers were united by one common love: gaming. They bet on everything and anything, from professional Quidditch games to possible love affairs.

"What does this place need, Remus?"

Remus turned away from his study of the bookie and shifted to Amissa Moon. She was curled into a chair near the door, with a book in her lap and a small, contained smile on her thin lips. He smiled at her, stepping back to take in the full image. She was a thin woman, pale and frost blond, with blue eyes that glittered with a precarious mirth. 

In school, she had been known as the Snake Charmer, a Slytherin Illuminatti that seemed to be the female version of Silas Malfoy. Cold and just as teasing as Silas, Amissa had broken hearts within all houses- including his own. Sirius still moaned about her from time to time. But her legacy, he always secretly thought, had been somewhat fabricated because of her house. She seemed to him like a rambunctious girl who didn't know what she was doing half the time, always needing a minding or watching over. Severus had usually fulfilled that position, if he remembered correctly. So much so, that she had followed to him to Hecate upon her graduation.   And last Remus had heard of her, she was engaged to an older man. That was almost twenty years ago.

            Now, looking at her, she seemed to have grown up in that time. Remus shifted, forgetting why he had come into the room in the first place. "What?"

            "You asked us if we knew what this place needed. I don't know." She was smiling at him like if he was a silly child that amused her to no ends.

            He liked that nervous, self-conscience feeling he was getting around her, like if he was some lovesick student. "I…don't remember."

            That warranted another muted laugh. "I hope you're not like this with your classes."

            "Sometimes." He admitted, tucking his hands in his pockets. "On Fridays."

            "Welcome to my life." 

            "Can I sit down?"

            "If you think you can manage without someone else's help." 

            He sat across from her, ignoring the bookie and Flitwick talking and teasing about a possible Remus-Amissa relationship. Right now, all he wanted to do was catch on old times. "Last time I saw you, you were dating a Navy."

            "Engaged, and you know they hate being called Navies." She closed her book. "Last time I saw you, you were Mr. Elise Astor."

            Remus smiled. Elise Astor, the Lady Werewolf, was once the most rich and influential werewolf in England. She made her condition public knowledge and made no attempt to be shamed or 'labeled away' as some curiosity. She had used her influence and wealth to unite the English werewolves, believing that she and others like her should be proud. He had met her soon after graduation and within six months, he had married her and joined her crusade.

            How could he have known then, that only five years later, everything would have been different?

            "After she died, I got into teaching. Been doing that ever since, for a while I worked at Holms College."

            "I heard you worked with Vargas to find the Wolfsbane Potion."

            "I was just a guinea pig." He shrugged off. He looked up. "What about you? Did you ever marry that Navy?"

            Amissa's smile faded just slightly. It was obvious that the wound was still fresh. "No, Sydney died on Day of the Dead. After that, I just worked at Hecate…became head of the Runic division. Then, Gideon asked me to come over here when Kaiya…"

            Remus looked away. His heart twisted in his chest. Yes, he knew something about fresh wounds.

            Amissa was looking down at her book, like a chastised child. "I heard something about a son…James?"

            "Riener James." Remus nodded. "He's staying with my brother-in-law."

            She smiled again. "I have a goddaughter that I took care of after her mother passed. It's hard being a single parent."

            "I just wish Kaiya would have seen him walk. She would have gotten a kick out have big he's grown."

            "I bet he looks like his daddy."

            "I hope he's not that ugly."

            She threw her head back and laughed. Those kind of thick, pearls of laughter that are contagious and made him smile despite the longing in his heart. She reached over and touched his leg. "I've missed you, Remus."

            He smiled at her. "I must say you're a lot prettier to look at then Severus."

            "Professor Lupin?" Angelo Malone was standing at the door of the Teacher's Lounge, head bowed and meek. Remus noticed that Amissa's eyes narrowed and watched the boy with snakelike caution. Angelo seemed oblivious to it. "Professor Lupin, the Headmaster has sent me to find you. You have a visitor in your office."

            He looked at Amissa questioningly before standing and moving pass Angelo. Amissa stared at the Malone for a long time, but Angelo merely nodded and walked away.

            "I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. I wasn't expecting company." Remus said, opening the door. "What can I do for you?"

            The visitor was sitting at his desk, with his boots on the desk. The man was powerfully built that was barely concealed under his dark blue shirt and black pants. Light brown hair, colored with blond and gray was pulled into a ponytail that reveal his wide blue-green eyes which were resting Remus' frame. The man swiveled in the chair to face Remus fully. "Hello, brother."

            "Ezra." Remus replied, frowning. "What's wrong? Where's Riener?"

            "Safe." Ezra assured him, standing. "He's with Bram and Eddie. Don't worry."

            "Why are you here?"

            "I've come to tell you that we're renewing our alliance with the Dark Lord." Ezra said, placing his hands on Remus' shoulders. He looked into Remus' eyes with love and pure devotion. "I've come to bring you home."

            Becka Stallens inhaled on the cigarette and watched Kiernan. Malone was shuffling on the balls of his feet, studying the Compound and stepping back every few moments as if he feared the Aurors would come and return him to Azkaban. Becka was chewing on the butt of her cigarette, desperately trying to acknowledge the information she had just received. 

            A few steps off, a small blond girl was playing among the willow trees. She was holding her hand aloft, watching as a spider crawled over her fingers, searching for an escape. The girl looked no older then five but there was age in the way she watched the spider through her blue, almond-shaped eyes. 

            "Are you certain?" Becka asked suddenly.

            Kiernan turned away from the girl. "Yes."

            "I have to get back to England, then. There's no other way to prevent this." She looked up. "Contact Isaiah, and tell him St. Michael wants to meet. He can contact me through you."

            "What are you going to do?"

            "I refuse to believe that Jack the Ripper has just disappeared."

"Her villa in Calais is abandoned, there's no body, no evidence that she ran. She's just…gone."

"See if you hear Lucius or one of the upper Death Eaters talking about her. She had to have gone somewhere. As for the Werewolves, I can't sway them, but there might still be hope for the Vampires."

            "There's other talk, Becka, among the Death Eaters. They're saying Voldemort has become obsessed with Harry Potter and Dumbledore, that he'll try a full attack on Hogwarts."

            "That's suicide and Voldemort knows that."

            "Maybe, but if he can't destroy them both now, he'll never have another chance for them to be together. Time's working against him and Voldemort knows that. He's giving all power to Mordred, concerning dealing with the Aurors."

            "What are they planning that could involve all this? There's more to this then Mordred's revenge his father or even Voldemort's grudge against Potter" She mused, "This doesn't make any sense."

            Kiernan's eyes were on her. "I think you know." Becka looked up with a calm curiosity that only served to confirm his suspicions. "You found it, didn't you? What you've been looking for all these years. You found it."

            "Keep your voice down."

            "You found the key." He said, fiercely. "What Voldemort has been chasing all his life...I didn't you ever would. Eoin said you couldn't but you have, haven't you?"

            "I'm not sure." She answered, truthfully. She was looking at the little girl play. "But I got to play this out, Kier. I can't explain it…but I think what's at stake is more then just the lives of Potter and Snape. It's more important then all our lives, or even this foolish war we're fighting. This…this is about life and death itself."

            "You don't have to do this, you know." He whispered, "No one will blame you if you walked away."

            _"I can't explain it. You'll just have to trust me!"_

_            "How can I trust you if you won't even let me know what you're after!_

_            "Just have faith in me and know that I'm doing this for everyone."_

_            "No, you're not. You're doing this because you're afraid."_

_            "Believe that if you must." It took everything in her to remain silent at that moment. She wanted to explain it but how could she when she didn't even understand.  " I have to go."_

_            "Go now, and I won't be here waiting for you…"_

_            "Then I'm sorry." She whispered, turning and walking away. She could feel his dark eyes on her, watching as she left. She wanted to turn back, wanted to explain but could not. Not without risking more lives then those that had already been lost. So she did what she had too. She made no sound as she turned and walked away._

            "You don't understand, Kiernan neither did Eoin." She answered, pulling out a lighter and looking at the child. "I've lost too much to Death, too much in finding this…I can't give it up now. It's all that I am."

            "No, it isn't."

            "Maybe," She allowed. "But I still have to follow this through."

            "For Billy's sake?"

            "For all their sakes." Becka reached into her coat and pulled out a wad of money, pushing them into his hand. "Stay safe, alright?"

            "Don't get sisterly on me…" He said with a grin.

            She forced up a laugh. "I know, I know. I don't have the practice…but still. I want to keep you around for a few more years." She glanced at the girl. "I better get back, she needs her nap."

            Kiernan watched as Becka disappeared under the willow tree branches to the child, lifting the girl up in her arms with a care he had never seen her exhibit before. There was a deliberation to her movements that she only used when dealing with the dangerous and deadly but the tenderness that shown in her face hearkened back to something old, and long thought forgotten. 

            Perhaps, he mused, she was healing. 

            He could hope, after all. 


	8. The Past is Prologue

_You know the drill, it's unedited now but soon won't be. Please read and review._

Chapter Eight: The Past is Prologue 

            "I want to thank you for sitting down with me."  Diego said as he sat down across from Severus. In front of him on the table were a legal pad, a pack of chewing gum, and a fountain pen. "I can never get Becka to talk about Rio Hecate."

            Snape wondered why Diego would ask Becka about that mission when it was his squad that had overseen it from start to finish. But then again, Stallens had always been close to Sydney. She was an old war dog that had been assigned at the same time Jude had and even worked with when them when Malachi ordered it. This was many years before he and Billy had ever joined. Before them, and before Becka had been assigned to Rico Masterson's squad, Malachi's prized soldiers were Becka, Jude, and Sydney, with his Kaga Erised Hecate backing them up on reconnaissance and intelligence. 

            Erised…

Snape shook his head, and inhaled deeply although he knew by now the air wouldn't fill his lungs and give him peace. "So who were you thinking of now?" Diego asked, pulling out a gum and offering him one that was refused. 

"Pardon?"

"You started shaking." The Reporter said, "For as long as I've known you, every time you remember something bad, you start shaking."

"You're very perceptive."

"It goes without saying in my line of work."

"I was thinking of Erised."

Diego's face fell for a moment. "Erised?" He asked, and then turned to study his paper. "Malachi's Companion? Why?"

"She was much more then Malachi's Companion." Snape ignored the look. He longed for release from the baggage he was carrying for so many years now and in the short time he had known Diego, he trusted him. There was innocent in the man's eyes, a dearly beloved ignorance to all the bad things, and all the sins of life. Diego lived his word, and knew nothing else. Simplicity and loyalty was written on his skin, and flowed through his veins like blood and in Snape's eyes, he could do no harm. Those who knew Snape as the feared Potions Master and defunct Dark Prince would laugh to see him dote on Diego, like some childhood friend long lost but now found and cherished. He showered Diego was attention, and in return, Diego was a loving confidant who could sit and listen to his war stories like a struck child. 

This was the reason Severus gave no mind to Diego's questioning eyes and surprised expression.

"Erised was Malachi's eyes, ears and voice. She knew the inside and out of the Interrogation wing better then any of us who worked there and could run it with her eyes closed." Snape said proudly. "At any given point, there was over 60 Interrogators, with another 20 auxiliaries coming in and out, not to mention people like Amissa and Dahlia who worked in other departments as go-betweens and at any point, Erised could tell you everyone's name, alias and real, and where they were. God, she was amazing when it came to work."

"You sound like quite the admirer."

"I was smitten the first time I saw her," He admitted. "I knew I wanted her. I did a lot to get her too." He was smiling now, like a schoolboy.

"I know…" Diego said, uneasily. "She was engaged to Chaim Drame at the time you met her. Broke up that relationship inside a year of your arrival from what I hear."

"He didn't deserve her and it was eight months. Anyways, like I said, for as much as she knew, she could have ran the Wing and no one would have known."

"That sounds like an awful big amount of information she was privy to. No wonder…" 

"Erised was Kaga. She lived and breathed Hecate. It was the Kaga's job to protect us."

"And who guards the guardians?" Diego said suddenly. He glanced up. "Rio Hecate was Kaga too, wasn't she?"

"Rio was different. She was a fanatic. She believed that her Kaga heritage gave her the power to determine what was wrong and right. A lot of other Kaga believed and followed her too. She believed that those who could take power should, and that those who didn't have it were only here to serve her. She wanted to bring about a sort of ethnic cleansing that would purge the magical community from all Mudbloods and half bloods. She brought us to our knees too. Her knowledge of Hecate kept her two steps ahead of us, not to mention her ability to win others to her cause. Not only did we fight her, but we had to worry about the werewolves too. During Rio's little coup-de-etat, she convinced the wolves to give us all kinds of trouble."

"How did it end?"

"A full frontal assault on her little hideout. A complete mess from start to finish too, we lost control of the situation within 20 minutes. I was personally beaten the crap out of…" Snape frowned a little at the memory. "Jude Remington, my squad fellow, saved my life…almost lost his because of it too." He shook his head. "Anyways, the house burned, and Rio was trapped inside, according to the report. Whatever follower she had were either arrested or killed…"

"She sounds like You-Know-Who."

"Doesn't it? But Rio was a good year and a half before he even appeared on our radar. My wing didn't even get intelligence reports on him till August of 73, three months before Billy died."

"Billy's death was the first major Death Eater related attack, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." Snape admitted, inhaling and shaking. "Because of the mole."

"The infamous Hecate mole." Diego said, leaning back. "He worked with you, right?"

"According to most people, I was the mole."

"But do you know who it really was?"

"I was told a long time ago that it was Judy." Snape allowed. "They said he was working for about six months before we even knew about Lord Voldemort. He arranged contacts with some of the top Death Eaters and was funneling information to pick off some of our boys before Billy. In fact, the case we were working on before his death involved top Slytherin businessmen, and a link to the vampires."

"So, the official version is that Remington started spying for the Dark Lord in December of 72." Diego said. He was scribbling on his pad fiercely now, doing math equations and tying them to other notes scripted in shorthand. 

"Yes, that's true."

"And if the Dark Lord appeared in your reports eight months later." Diego looked up. "Something doesn't add up."

"What?"

"Well, you had just come off Rio's case six months prior, and Jude had almost gotten himself killed for you…don't you think it's a little odd that he suddenly became a spy for a villain so much like the one he just defeated? Why or what happened to warrant such treason? It is just…odd."

"Michael, I was beginning to think you didn't love us anymore." 

Becka looked at the vampire descending the stairs with a feeling of elation. Simon, like all his kind, was immaculately built. Pale with crimson lips and dark kohl around his eyes, Simon looked in his early twenties although he was closer to eighty years. He was shorter then Becka but threw his frail arms around her and let her lift her and spin him around. She released him and smiled. "Come now, Simon. You know you're my family."

"Isaiah's been getting everyone ready for you. Delphi can't wait to see you."

"Then let's get this done, shall we?"

The hotel they were in was called The Grand Marquis and glittered with wealth and history. Magnificent Renaissance paintings leered down from the lobby's ceiling and seemed to mock the cheerful themes of music with their frozen, prefect faces. Becka's mud caked boots resounded in the huge rooms, and her coat swayed slightly around her. Unlike Simon's fine tailored robes, she was in muddied, soaking wet black and coming into a place as opulent as this made her acutely aware of the world she was traversing. They stepped into the elevator with another vampire, just as beautiful as Simon but twice his size with strong, thick timbers for arms that folded over his chest. He turned to Becka and spoke in a thick accent. 

"Your wands, Michael."

Becka smiled and tilted her head. She knew this vampire to be named something ominous and monosyllabic like Raze or Bane. Throwing back her coat she pulled on the wands that rested on her waist like six shooters and handed them to him. 

Simon was humming softly to himself. "All of them."

She squatted down and pulled the one from her boot, tossing it. "Keep that one close, Simon. It's my baby."

"What about the knife?" The big one asked. 

The knife was little more then a dagger that had been reset and refashioned many times before. The old yew handle was capped by polished silver and the blade, also silver-plated had an iron heart. According to the myths of both Muggle and Magician believed the iron was said to be deadly to both Dark Wizards and Vampires, with silver for the Werewolves. The knife had first belonged to Jack the Ripper, and had been used in Day of the Dead to kill Sydney Van Ness and critically injure Erised Hecate. From there, Eoin Malone had used it to give the Dark Prince his scar. Lord Voldemort had given it to Saint Michael as a gift for information given that led to Day of the Dead. And from that day, it had never left her. 

"The knife stays with me." She said,  "Make sure I'm not given reason to use it."

"Give it to me or I will take it from you." He growled.

"Enough of these threats." Simon announced. "Let her keep it. Isaiah has never minded before." He pushed open the doors to the suite.

Inside were more plush furniture and the smell of a full dinner wafting in the air. Three beautiful women were closest to the door and stood, taking Becka into their arms in deep hugs. Becka smiled and relished in the comfort they gave her with their cold, dead arms and heartless chests. She allowed them to remove her coat and run icy hands through her thin hair and even laughed as they chastised her about her appearance. In the backroom, where she heard someone practicing a piano, she heard children laughing. It caused her voice to catch and when the door opened, she craned her head in to see.

Isaiah just smiled at her, blocking her view and closing the door behind her. "Do you hear him? Finally, he's getting better."

"I told you he would."

"I'm going to show him painting next. We're going to Paris for that."

"Vienna for music, Paris for art…what next, England for Theater?"

"Only the best for our son." Isaiah walked to her to hug her, but she stepped back. He frowned then, touched her chin with his thumb. "Can I hope you've come to your senses and are coming home?"

"I've come to talk about the alliance with Mordred…"

"Business then. Still, I ordered dinner for you. Get dress in something of Delphi's. I want to see the woman I cherish, and not this shell…" He raised his hand and flicked it at her. 

"I'm not here to eat. Mordred's my only concern. You've broken your promise to me, you naughty little boy."

The leader of the vampires, turned to glare at her with his incredibly deep blue eyes that turned momentarily cold with ire. "Do not presume," He warned her. "That because I love you I will tolerance disrespect."

"I thought you needed a heart to love."

"And I always thought a soldier needed honor. You've proven me wrong, haven't you?"

"Fuck you, Isaiah." She said, angrily. She pushed away from the women and turned towards the windows. Twin angels cornered the top of the windows, framing the cityscape. The lights from the buildings glittered like hundreds of Christmas lights set against a dark blanket. She wondered if she stared long enough into the heavens could she be lost there.

He smiled at her and put his arms around her waist. "Actually, I have every intention of giving you that opportunity later tonight."

"Break your treaty with Ezra." She said, facing him but resting her hands behind her back. "Tell Mordred to fight his own war, and the vampires fear no one while Hecate herself quakes at the mere whisper of your power." Her hands fell to his chest. "Let Hecate and the Death Eaters kill themselves in more and more battles Isaiah. When it's all over, you'll be the only power standing."

"Why do you care so much about this, Michael? A continuance of this war will only make you more money." 

"I'm not interested in the money anymore. Just us, Dante, you and me." She smiled at him, her hands tugging now on his belt. "I want to come home. But I want a home to come back too."

Isaiah's hands traced her shoulder blades, to her arms down to her wrists. He watched her fingers undo his pant buttons and he leaned down to kiss her gently. It took her a second for her to attempt to twist away but he was ready for this. He leaned closer to her neck, forcing deeper and drawing blood. Her body went slack in his arms. 

It happened as quickly as a feeling of sound euphoria took over Becka's senses, that she was ripped from it. She felt tremors of pain shoot up threw her back as she landed on the floor and stared up at him.

"You're tainted." He seethed, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. He was staring at her with disbelief. "I can feel it in you. All this time, you've lied to me! The rumors are true then…"

"What rumors?"

"That you have lost your mind! I thought you gave up on that foolish quest years ago. It's over, the war is lost!"

Becka stood up again. She brushed a hand through her hair. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"What game do you think you're playing at?!"

"End this gamble with Ezra and Mordred or I will bury you all. Do you understand?" She said, crisply even though everything inside of her was screaming for her to be silent. She was forfeiting the only safety she had by this action. Her eyes were as cold and unfeeling, even as her mind was racing. Isaiah had more on her, then she could ever have on him and he knew that. Should he choose to, Isaiah could destroy her and never think twice about it. Yet, she was standing before him and making demands.

All because she trusted a Prodigal she knew would fail. 

Isaiah was merely watching her, "Stay with me tonight, and I'll protect you. Walk, and you're alone."

Sighing, Becka walked to the door, picking up her coat. 

Isaiah swung about and called after her, angrily. "Have you forgotten I own you? You're nothing without me! All those enemies that you've kept at bay for so long will come after you! You'll be powerless without me!" 

She was trying desperately not to cry from the creeping fear that was rushing in place of her blood. Her neck was still bleeding and throbbing from pain. She was getting so very tired that her feet was trudging along with tenderness. She was losing her grip, and with this, she was probably ensuring everything that Isaiah was screaming at her. She just wanted to rest after all this time. She deserved that rest.

"Don't turn your back on everything you've worked so hard for," Isaiah warned but she still wasn't saying anything in return. He was going to lose her. "Erised, damn it turn around!"

Now summoned by her true name, Saint Michael turned and watched Isaiah with red eyes. "It's my fight."

"It's a fight you will lose."

"Have you ever thought for a moment that's what I'm hoping for? After all this time, all these lies and betrayals, maybe it's time I died."

"Why?"

"So I can explain to God why I killed Billy."


	9. Judas Kept Excellent Company

Author's Note: Read, review, enjoy. Don't worry, I think I spy the main plot looming somewhere over the horizon…yup, there it is!

**Chapter Nine: Judas Kept Excellent Company**

            Albus Dumbledore walked into his apartment, undoing his coat and sliding out of his robes. There was a full moon outside and a steady chill running through the forest.  From his room, he could make out howling wolves outside and as he leaned out, he could see a larger brown male chased by a snowy white female. He smiled to himself. 

            "At least Remus and Amissa are enjoying themselves." He mused, and smiled. Since Amissa had come to Hogwarts her joy had lifted the pallor of fear, and depression that loomed over the school. In recent weeks, even though something was troubling Remus, anyone who could see knew that he had come to care for Amissa very much.

            After all this time, after all the death, healing was finally coming.

Albus turned back to his armoire and dressed for bed. Removing his thick outer cloak, inner robes and other vestments he gave way to appear, as he truly was, a thin old man. The years that passed, mounted with the struggles and weight of authority had all but destroyed his body, making his eyes twinkle- not with mirth, but with tears. But he still fought, and he still lived. Nothing could take that from him.

            "You didn't check under the bed, Headmaster. There could be monsters hidden under there."       

Albus lifted his eyes, jumping slightly from the initial shock. He turned around fully, and strained to see into the dark corners of his room attempting to decipher where the woman was standing and waiting. Licking his lips, he craned his head and spoke. 

"What do I have to fear?" He asked. "When I have angels watching over me."

Becka walked into the light and laughed. She was dressed in her normal cargo pants and black boots but her muddy leather coat was buttoned up to the neck. She flinched from the pale lamplight and to facilitate her, Albus turned it out. He motion to the curtain, which she pulled back. She stared at the window, and smiled at the wolves playing below. "How is my Mistress?" She asked quietly. 

"Why don't you go and talk to her to find out?" Albus asked, quietly. He motioned for her to come to him and she obeyed, giving her arm to his for support. "A twenty year old feud? Certainly that is enough time."

"Twenty four years and if you ask me, I'm still getting the easy way out." She looked at Dumbledore and smirked. "It's one less Christmas present to buy."

"I never got along well with your careless persona, Erised. I hope to be given better treatment."

The woman inhaled deeply as if she were an actor shedding a character assumed for so long. She took his arm and walked him slowly to the bed. "I'll be civil if you call me by my real name."

"I thought I already was."

"My name is Becka."

"But I'm too old to remember all your alias, Ari. I hope you will forgive me."

"Fair enough, only because you're old." Erised looked at him with contained affection. She shook her head. "And I think I was just kind to another human being."

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." He tilted his head. "But are you cold?"

"What a question…"

"It's just that you're shaking."

"That's not the reason." Ari sat on his bed, and unbuttoned her coat. She peeled off her shirt revealing pale skin was tinted with red from drying blood. A large bite on her neck had already clotted and blued from bruises. "This is."

Albus nodded thoughtfully and tossed her one of his white shirts that hung on her like a tunic. "What happened?"

"Isaiah. He found me out. Your gamble has failed."

"You mean the vampires will not back down?"

"How did you…" Ari shook her head. "I'm too sober for this. Yes, Isaiah said I had become tainted and wouldn't listen to me. His cockiness tells me that he believes every lie Mordred has fed him. Jackie's gone, probably dead and the Death Eaters will be kept in check by Ezra and his werewolves."

"No good news, I suppose?"

"Instead of following my instincts and joining Isaiah, I stayed with you."

"Why?"

"I was kind of hoping you could answer that, oh great and powerful Oz."  
"Could it be you're finding your faith again, Angel?" Albus asked, quietly as he sat beside her. 

But the angel merely laughed. "Faith is for those who have never seen their god. I was created in the reside always in the presence but chose to leave, remember?" She leaned against him. "Do you believe in God, Headmaster?" Ari swallowed, closing her eyes and letting Albus put his arms protectively around her. "Do you think he forgives?"

"I don't think it's God's forgiveness you're seeking, is it?"

"He's the only one that would forgive me." Again, she sighed and when she spoke now, her voice was breaking. "I'm tired, Albus…so very tired."

"Then rest." He said quietly. "I'll be right here, watching you." He lowered her to bed and lay down beside her. His hands found hers and clung to her chilled fingers with a fatherly love that her whole body seemed to respond to. The muscles of her back relaxed, allowing her to sleep for the first time without the help of large amounts of liquor.

Half asleep, the girl turned towards his body, eager to feel warmth and comfort without the worries of her profession. "Lie to me, Oz. Tell me what I need to hear…"

Albus took a deep breath and obeyed. "Everything is going to be okay."

Isaiah watched the small boy play the piano with the dutiful concentration of a child wanting to impress his father. Dante had been twelve when Isaiah had brought him over, and now more then twenty years later, he was still a child even though his dark green eyes gave off the promise of something more sinister lurking under the angelic façade. 

Dante was wearing robes of the purest white, bringing out the dull rose of his cheeks. Frost seemed to have barely touched his features, adding a touch of pink across his cheeks and nose, and upon his forehead that melded with his curls of soft brown hair. His frame was slender but beautifully form in soft muscles that were prepared for manhood he would never achieve.  His small pale pink lips were pursed together in study as he finished the movement and looked up expectantly at the man he was told to call father.

Isaiah smiled and clapped. "Beautiful, Dante, as always."

"I thought I heard mother's voice." He asked, quietly. "She didn't come to see me."

"She was ill, but don't worry. Father has made arrangements to make sure she'll be coming home very soon."

"How soon?"

The door to the small room opened and allowed entrance for Imre and his dead Auror bodyguard. Dante made a nervous sound and slid off his seat, moving closer to Isaiah for comfort. The elder Vampire smiled and patted Dante's cheek before sending him to play with Simon in the lobby. 

"You'll get your mother soon, little one. But right now, let me and 'daddy' talk." Imre watched with amusement and then shook his head. "I thought it was unwise to turn someone so young."

"He was special to me. He was in Erised's care when I took him, and that makes us family."

"How very human of you." The Auror whispered, calmly.

Isaiah looked at him. "You would know something of lingering humanity, wouldn't you slave?"

"Mind your words, Vampire. I dealt with your kind before…"

"I know. I was there the first time you should have died."

"Would you like to experience death, Nightwalker?" The Auror reared up, causing Isaiah to do the same.

"You called me for a reason, Isaiah." Imre interrupted, giving his servant a sharp look. "Want to tell me why?"

Isaiah licked his lips and shrunk back. "Michael came. She knows that Mordred has reached an alliance with Ezra and me. If I know her, she's going to go straight to Dumbledore and then to Hawke and the Dark Prince. That'll move them onto the offensive."

"This turn of events is unfortunate. I thought you said you could control her. You said that if I gave her reason to find you, she would and you would led me to her…"

"I tried but Snape's return to Hecate affected her in ways I didn't know of. Also, she's become attached to something, and will give her life for it… If left to this, Michael could become a dangerous adversary."

"You said she cared nothing for the outcome of the war."

"She doesn't. But she wants something to believe in again. She wants hope."

"Let's make sure Severus doesn't have the chance to give it to her then." Imre announced. He turned to his guardian. "Contact Mordred, tell him it's become necessary for him to accelerate his plans for the Ministry. Then, contact Ezra concerning Saint Michael…"

"Ezra? No! He almost killed her last time they met!" Isaiah said, rising from his chair.

Imre didn't even move. "I know. I was there when last they met. Daemon, tell Ezra I want Michael's wings clipped."

"Yes, my Master."

Isaiah watched Imre. "I know your kind and you care nothing for purity of blood or the balance of power. What do you seek to gain from this war?"

"What makes you think I want anything from this? I am Lord Voldemort's humble servant."

"You lie. Like Michael says, everything has a price. For all your infatuation with death, you wouldn't risk your life if you didn't have something to gain."

"And what is it you seek?"

"Simple. I want Michael. Ezra wants revenge for Elise's death and protection and power shifted back to the werewolves. The Dark Lord wants immortality, and this so called Black Prince wants his predecessor's head. But you…what do you gain from it all? What is Michael trying so hard to keep from you?"

Imre grew thoughtful, introspective before choosing his words and when he had done so, he turned to Isaiah, meeting his eyes briefly before standing with aid of his cane. "Samedi."

Author's Note Part Two: Alright since I have your attention, it's time to advertise! I'm trying to put together a little collection of short stories (we're aiming for comedy but everything is welcome) about want goes on in the 'off-hours' at 12 Grimmauld Place. It's for all those goof balls (or like in my case, closet goof balls) that figures when you put together a group over stressed, over worked people like Severus, Remus, Sirius and Kingsley madness is bound to ensue. The stories can take place at any time during book five and must involve cannon characters (sorry, no original characters please.) Let's keep it all in good, semi-clean taste. All works will be put together under the title "Confessions from 12 Grimmauld Place" and will be posted right here on FFN. Any submissions and/or questions can be sent to Erised_Hecate@yahoo.com. Thanks for reading!


	10. The Prince is Dead, Long Live the Prince

**Chapter Ten: The Prince is Dead, Long Live the Prince**

"The old man looks sick, Mr. Solis. Is he?"

"On the contrary Mr. Llewellyn, Minister Fudge is in excellent health, having just returned from a vacation to the United States."

Lewis hid a smirk as he stared at his mentor Diego. Diego Solis was in his element here, sitting just behind the Minister of Magic as both his press secretary and a trusted aide. Solis had been with Fudge since the start of his political career and was considered one of Fudge's closest friends. His post as Press Secretary came as a result of Solis' vivid and passionate reports during the Dark Times when he openly battled with Skeeter and her ilk in print over the exact power and size of the Dark Lord's armies. He had ripped away the myth and mystery behind the dramatic titles like Jack the Ripper and Dark Prince to reveal as nothing more then petty criminals, easily encountered and defeated. 

But according to rumors, this ardent pacifist had become a supporter of an open war against Voldemort and his Prince. Some claimed that this new stance was a result of his Auror wife, Becka Stallens, and because of that Diego was beginning to be viewed as weak and ineffective.

"There are some who believe that Minister Fudge's visit to America was to meet with high ranking officials from Hecate Compound and discuss a Hecate's possible return to self-rule."

"You're fishing, Lewis." Diego said, softly. The man was smiling even though his face remained a clear, emotionless mask, as he appeared to be listening to the arguing of the politicians. "A good reporter usually doesn't have to. They come right out and say it."

"Fine, is Fudge going to vote today to support a release of Hecate powers?"

"The Minister understands that this is a difficult and delicate subject to deal with and will take all stipulations into consideration before going to the International Wizardry Confederations and voting on Hecate sovereignty."

"I'm not going to get anything else out of you, am I?"

"Not a chance, but Becka sends her love."

Lewis smiled and nodded, turning back to the main arena. His smile faded as he studied the faces of each screaming politicians. On their faces were rage mixed with fear, courage merging with desperation and memory clashing with instincts. Never before had he seen such fierce division over something that could make or break the country. 

Today England would choose to support Hecate in going to war. 

It was a difficult choice to be sure, even in peacetime. Hecate was crying foul over the events of the past two years, the Dark Prince's Silent Night and the Azkaban breakout, they claimed the Christmastime attacks on the English Ministry of Magic, Godric's Hallow, Hecate, and at Hogwarts was symbolic of a new proactive agenda that the Death Eaters were employing.  They said that even though they had been give permission to use the Unforgivable Curses, they needed the power to act without seeking warrants and or judicial permission before making arrest or raids. They needed the ability to answer to no one in order to protect the world like it needed to be protected.

Supporters said that the IWC had overstepped its bounds 20 years ago when Hecate was seized by severe information leaks by limiting their power. They said the main supporters for the bill hadn't faced the Dark Prince or score of other super villains that had come in the wake of it. But the opposition was just as passionate saying that giving absolute power corrupts absolutely and without policing Hecate would become no better then the villain it sought to destroy.

All Lewis knew is that he wouldn't want to be in Fudge's place right now for all the gold in the world.

Cornelius Fudge rested his head in his hands tiredly as the drama played out before him. He had been England's Minister of Magic for almost two decades now, helping the country recover from the ravishing of the Lord Voldemort and his brutal Dark Prince. He had fought, bleed and cried for the country a hundred times over- attempting to regain the peace Voldemort and his Prince had stolen away from it. He loved England and did all he could to preserve it's fragile peace.

Only now could he see his terrible folly. Three years ago he had been asked by Albus Dumbledore to join forces with the giants and anyone else who would answer a call to peace to fight against the return of Voldemort. Instead, Fudge had chosen to ignore the old man's counsel and pretend nothing had changed. That day in spring had seen the life taken of a boy, Cedric Diggory, and Fudge had shamed his death by ignoring it. Now, his own daughter had gone to keep Cedric company. With her and Cedric lay Victoria Hawke, Harrison Delacroix, the Crouch family and a score of other names he couldn't bring himself to remember at this time.

And he felt tired suddenly…and very weak.

"Minister?" He heard a voice call. "Minister, you must continue."

Fudge looked up and saw that Diego had risen from his seat to help him. Diego was watching him, concerned but silent amid the voices of heated fighting all around him with that same, simplistic trust he placed on Fudge to do what was right. Fudge sighed heavily and rose, leaning on Diego's arm as he stood. He glanced around the room of the Ministers from each department as they bickered and quarreled among themselves about what to do concerning the war. 

"Hecate will become nothing but an occupying force if given the leeway they seek!"

"Hecate has already expressed her intentions to go through with her war plans, even without the IWC's blessing."

"They must obey the IWC's or risk the consequences!"

"And what consequences are those, Madam Minister?"

"Who would dare challenge Hecate?"

"Hecate isn't the real issue here, it's Hogwarts! To fully ensure peace for England we must close the school!"

"Close Hogwarts? Are you mad? We can't do that!"

            "We have no other choice! The School Governors are looking to us to protect their children, how can we do not that if we close the school?"

            "Send away Harry Potter!"

            "Dumbledore would never allow that and besides, Potter may be our only chance!"

            "He's the reason our children aren't safe!"  
            "Our children aren't safe because You-Know-Who seeks to destroy those he can't recruit, Potter or no, he will come!"

"Give him Potter! Give him what he wants and he'll go away!" Shouted one woman, an aged Minister of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. "I say we let the IWC control Hecate and handle this supposed war!"

"Here, here!" The Minister for Magical Transportation shouted. "Besides we've done our part!"

            "Done our part?!" Demanded a bellowing voice from the back. It was Benjamin Laud, the Minister of Magical Law. He stood to his full height, his eyes narrowed in cold hatred. Beside him stood one of Hecate's ghosts, a Kaga female. She was watching but doing nothing for her one-armed charge. Laud seemed to have things well under control. "Ministers! I employ you to look beyond your fear and panic and do what needs to be done!"

            "This war is the IWC! We are only England!"

            "And who do you think gave birth to this viper?" Laud asked softly.

            "The Dark Lord is not our doing!" The Transportation Minister shouted again.

            The Muggle Artifacts woman was shouting. "Here, here! We've done our part! Leave this to Hecate!"

"Hecate cannot stand alone, and unarmed!" Laud pleaded. Fudge could tell he was losing. Laud was not a politician; he was an Auror. He knew only that sacrifices must be made to achieve peace. He had lost his arm and family to that peace. He couldn't understand why these Ministers weren't willing to do the same.

            And that's the way it was in war, the young died while the old men bickered and did nothing. Fudge sat down again. He was feeling weak.

"You yourself are a Hecate man, Minister Laud." The woman was saying. "You have proclaim the Auror's Academy ready for war, now their time has come! Let them stand and fight, what they are suppose to do!"

"They cannot do it alone!"

"Then let them find other allies, not us!" She screamed. "Let them close some other school, not Hogwarts!"

"You would have us all wait?" He asked. He was shaking from anger. The Kaga had moved to touch his shoulder but he shrugged her off. "You would have us wait and be slaughtered!"

"The war is the International Wizardry Council's problem, not ours!"

"It's all of our problems!"

"You Aurors are nothing more then war-mongers, seeking glory and gain for your own selfish wants. This is nothing but a vendetta! Your failure to capture the Dark Lord has made you bitter and angry and you'll damn us all to get revenge!" 

"I lost my desire for glory and gain when I lost my arm!"

"You're nothing murdering butchers!"

            "I have never done anything but ensure your freedom, your peace, and now you would throw what I have bleed for, what others have died for, away for fear!"

"Better alive and afraid then brave and dead!"

"Don't you hear yourself!" Laud asked. "Don't you understand what you are saying…"

Fudge could see the anguish and rage in Laud's eyes. He motioned with one hand to someone and watched as the Kaga took a step forward and ease Laud away from the platform. Fudge sighed, relieved. In a way, he was grateful to have the Kaga so near. Among their many tasks, guarding the Ministers and working as their aids was a common practice. He looked to his own Companion, a male they called Wade Hecate. Wade glanced at him and smiled gently before returning to full attention and Fudge shivered from the shadow's grin. There was no emotions behind that gesture and that made the smile mocking and almost terrifying.

"Minister Fudge!" Laud was saying. "I must ask for you to say something regarding this issue. We've been fighting among ourselves for most of the week. Come and speak now. We are all listening."

Fudge had to admit he was a little amused by the silence that engulfed the room but he understood it. The Ministry was looking to him for guidance, as was all England, and now he would have to be the man they wished of him. He exhaled and walked the short distance to his podium, thinking in vain for some words of comfort to give to the people now. He could think of none. He opened his mouth to speak.

"If I may," Interrupted a voice that rang clear through the auditorium. The Ministers, their aides, reporters and the on-lookers that were present all turned and searched for the voice. 

It came from a man, walking from the spectators' seats regally, his black boots echoing eerily against the stone floor. "I humbly ask permission to speak."

The crowd milled around, and Fudge felt all eyes turn to him. He regarded the man before him and nodded. The man bowed deeply, and smiled. "You are gathered here today to discuss wrongs that should have been redressed three years ago my sirs and madams. Three years ago, the Dark Lord Voldemort returned from the grave, two years ago, Hogwarts, Godric's Hallow, this Ministry itself and even the invincible Hecate was attacked, and one year ago Azkaban was destroyed…"

Diego shifted in his place and turned to Wade, motioning for him to move closer. The Kaga obeyed, hand falling to his wand as he did. Lewis saw this and pulled a pen to begin writing.

"…Three would-be mortal blows that could have destroyed England and the world and yet you still all stand here today. Do you wish to know why?"

There was a murmuring in the crowd. No one was paying much mind to the people that had begun to mill around the exits, blocking them. 

"It is because the Dark Lord's greatest weapon had already been dulled from time and misuse. I bring you good news today, my Ministers, the Dark Prince is dead."

The crowd began to chatter rapidly among themselves, hoping against hope that this news was true. Laud had begun to finger his wand nervously, eyes focused on the speaker. The Kaga were also alert; Wade inched even closer to Fudge. Diego turned directly to Lewis and met his eyes, "Hey son, why don't you go get me something to drink from the store across the street."

Lewis couldn't believe his ears. "And leave now?"

"Just do it lad," Diego was saying strangely, arm still clutching Fudge's. "for me."

Lewis nodded and stood to leave, glancing back to watch Fudge. He was still watching the man, entranced.

"In his stead, however, a new terror has arisen, a Black Prince who does not make the nations tremble…but rather reduces them to ash." The man threw back his hood, and met Fudge's eyes with violent, wine colored eyes that shook the Minister to his soul. "And this Ministry's end shall be his coronation."

"Avada Kedreva!" Shouted a woman less then three feet away from Lewis, taking out Laud first. 

The Ministers were panicking now, rushing to the nearest exits only to be plowed down by the Death Eaters and Radella's magic tricks. Diego had thrown Fudge to the ground, calling to Laud's female and pulling his wand. On his face was the look of a man prepared to die fighting. He shouted for Wade to back him up but the Kaga would not listen to a civilian, choosing instead to dive towards the man and engage. The man wrapped his hands around Wade's neck and snapped it like a twig, never faltering in his advance towards Fudge. 

Lewis ducked from a spray of green light sent by the woman who was blindly shouting out the Killing Curse. He tore away from his place and took a dive near the stairs. He clung to the side of the wall, under the stadium seating and beneath limp bodies, watching the scene go past him in devastating slow motion. 

"You're a smart man not to hide, Minister." He heard the man praised, removing a small dagger from his belt. "I wish I could offer you a death that is painless but what fun would that be?" 

"Let my Secretary go. His death will gain you nothing." Fudge said softly, pushing Diego away from him. "It's me you want."

"I won't leave your side, Minister." Diego said. 

"Diego, think of your wife."

"I am. She wouldn't leave you when you need her most, and neither will I."

The man arched an eyebrow, nodding in admiration of Diego's courage. Fudge smiled, despite himself, grateful for the boost of courage Diego's words gave him. Taking Solis' hand, he turned back and looked deep into the man's eyes. "As you can see, Prince, we are not afraid to die for a cause, and even as we die…others, like my successor, still live…and they will fight you."

"I'm hoping on it." The man drawled. "Take whatever comfort you can from your heroes death, Minister. It's the last thing you'll feel." 

A sound pierced the haze of reality and brought Lewis crashing back to the present. He screamed as the knife plunged into the throat of the Minister of Magic and then, like a cruel afterthought, into Diego's stomach. It happened so fast, with jerk and recoil of the man's hand, then it resting at his side that Lewis thought for a moment he hadn't seen right. It didn't seem right, watching Diego fall to his knees, clutching at his stomach as a small stain of purple began to stain his light blue shirt. His lips were pursed into a prefect O but there was only the echo of pain on his face before Diego bucked like an animal because of failing nerves before collapsing completely.

Mordred slipped his dagger into his belt and turned to watch as his Death Eaters finished off the Ministry. The politicians never had a chance. He smiled, watching as they ran screaming for their lives only to be cut down. It was like watching an ant nest set on fire. His eye caught something, and caused him to turn towards Radella and Mayon who were ripping a man to his feet from his hiding place near the stairs. 

"Who is he?" He asked, walking over.

Mayon turned, "A dead man, my lord."

"And what is this dead man's name?" Mordred asked, sweetly. He waved his hand and  Mayon dropped him unceremoniously on the ground. Smiling, Mordred kneeled down, and picked up the man's chin. "What's you name, son?"

"…Lewis Llewellyn..." 

"Well, Lewis." The man purred. "I am letting you live, but not for mercy's sake. I want you to tell the world what you see here today. Tell them the Dark Prince was a dream compared to what I will do. Tell them that the Ministers were cut down like cattle before your eyes…and that their families- wives, husbands, children, pets were prepared in advance to greet them. Tell them the Ministry is dead. Tell them the age of peace and freedom is over. You tell them first the Ministry has fallen and soon all England." The man stood. "Tell them the Black Prince is preparing his master's throne."


	11. Para Bellum

**Chapter Eleven: Para Bellum**

            Despite her familiarity with Hogsmeade or the countless happy memories surrounding the village, Erised still felt out of place here. Here people shuffled in and out of the stores and smiled at each other. They knew each other by name, and the latest gossip was the biggest thing on everyone's mind. She felt happy here, fulfilled and at peace with no thoughts of Becka Stallens or Saint Michael. Here, both personas were merely bad dreams that she could dismiss easily. She now understood why Dumbledore had kept Severus here. It was to remind him that there were some things (like this common, simple life) that were worth fighting for. To remind him that after all his sins, he was still human.

She, on the other hand, had never been human. She was never supposed to lose faith and therefore redemption was not hers to ask for. Only Dumbledore and Diego thought otherwise- but such faith was for humans.

And it was best not to dwell on the impossible.

She tugged on her brown leather gloves and straightened the coat on her small frame. The Headmaster always kept a room and wardrobe waiting for her at Hogwarts for times like this when she needed to recuperate from the hell of her life. This outfit was her favorite, a green and silver dress suit that she lovingly called 'her Slytherin robes.' Before Voldemort's return, she use to daydream that this was going to be the outfit she wore when she met Severus again. 

No, don't think about it…

"Armsman Stallens?" 

Don't make a sound…

"Armsman Stallens?"

Erised shut her eyes and ignored the voice. "Not today, I'm not."

"Then perhaps I should be asking for Saint Michael."

She stopped, and laid her hand over the wand.  Behind her was a boy there who couldn't be more then twenty but had that wild-eyed look she knew all to well. A werewolf, but one too young to rank high enough to know her true identity or have done business with her before. "I'm going to give you three minutes to walk away."

"Remove your hand from the wand." He said softly. "I'm eighteen, in full health and stronger. You're an old, drunk, crippled information dealer. Do you want to dance and see which of these happy little civilians suffer for it?"

Ari glanced around and smiled softly at the old lady who thought she was Dumbledore's 'on the side' girlfriend. She looked back at the boy. "What's your name, boy?"

"Eddie."  

"I'll remember that now what do you have to say?"

            "I've been told to notify you that the Black Prince has made the first move and wants to thank you for the information that helped make it possible. He hopes that you two can continue to do business together, and to that end as a sign of good will, he has helped you with your marital problems." Eddie had a cocky smile as he spoke to her. Eddie bowed gently and turned to walk away as easily as he had appeared. 

            Erised swallowed hard and made a beeline for the pet store. She had to get an Owl to Dumbledore before news reached him through other means.

            Then, she had to find Diego. 

****

"Come on, Jamie! Give us a smile!" Councilman Dimitri Byron called softly.

            Across the room, Jamie Kahle gripped her crutches harder and glared at him. She had been in therapy for months now and was doing better then anyone had predicted. Now all that was needed for her to be discharged and return to her duty at the IWC was for her to walk on her own. Easier said then done.

            And during all the time she was in the hospital, Byron had been there to visit her every free chance he got. 

            "Don't," Jamie hissed over the pain. "Give me your coy remarks, Dimitri I'm not in the mood."

            He walked half way across the room and smirked. He bowed slightly and looked up. "If you want me to stop, Madam Ambassador, you're going to have to come and make me stop."

            "Fine, then I will." She determined. 

Byron watched with ill-concealed joy and pride as Jamie let go of the crutches and wobbled towards him. The steps were clumsy and uneven and looked like she was about to fall twice but he never moved to help her. He knew she would never forgive him for that. She walked straight towards him, and fell into his arms. 

Their faces were so close together she could feel his breath on her face. Their eyes met for a moment before Bryon leaned forward to kiss her. Jamie closed her eyes, waiting.

"Councilman Bryon?"

            Bryon opened his eyes, grunted angrily and turned towards the person at the doorway. It was an IWC herald, with a bodyguard behind him. "Yes, what is it?"

            "Councilman Byron if you would come with us, we need to move you to a secure location."

            "Secure location?" He frowned, easing Jamie towards her bed. "What's going on?"

            "We need to move you, sir."

            "I demand to know what's going on!" He shouted, ripping his arm from the bodyguard's grasp. 

            The herald nodded the guard back. "It's standard procedure, sir. In case the Minister of Magic is killed, his deputy takes the position. If death is a result of an attack he is moved to a secure location with his war council to discuss the current threat."

            "What are you talking about? What happened to Fudge?"

            "They're dead, sir." The herald said passively, almost in a bored voice. He handed Byron a file folder, where the names of fallen Ministers and their aides were hastily compiled. "The Ministry was in general assembly when there was an attack, there was one survivor, a reporter."

            "Dear god," Jamie whispered beside him, "Bryon…"

            "Who is leading the country?" Bryon whispered after a long second. "Who's in charge now?"

            "You are, sir."

            "Ministers' aides and successors are being alerted across England, sir." The herald replied.

            Just like that, Dimitri Bryon became the new leader of England. He turned away from the herald, and the bodyguard. He walked towards the windows and gazed out into the morning sun. He watched the hospital workers and patients mill around. Their biggest concern in the world was that of healing and helping those heal.

            And now, suddenly, with one word from an errand boy, he was the leader of a nation besieged.

"Men at times are masters of their fates…" He whispered under his breath. He closed his eyes, exhaling as a commoner for the last time and drawing breath now as a leader. "Contact the IWC, tell them Ambassador Kahle is with me."

            "Yes Minister." The herald announced, he turned to leave but Byron called him back.

            "And contact Hecate Compound, tell them" He inhaled. "Have their liaison waiting for me at this 'secured location.'"

            "It's already arranged."

            "What does this mean, Dimitri?" Jamie asked, wrapping her arm around his as the guards escorted them out of the hospital room. 

            He looked at her; "It means this all ends soon."

            The owl was small in comparison to other species but it was a fierce little creature, diving straight into the Headmaster's office and ousting Fawkes from his place by Dumbledore's right hand. It had a tawny coat with strong amber eyes and instantly began to claw at Dumbledore's arm, eager to be released from his burden.

"Friend of yours?" Gideon Mallory asked half amused, from over the rim of the files he was reading aloud to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked over the bird and replied softly. "I've never seen him before."

Dumbledore took the letter and read over it twice before finding the words to speak, "Gideon, I think you better get back to London."

"What's wrong, Albus?"

"Something's happened. Mordred has acted."

Gideon was on his feet, his hand over wand and voice composed. "Do you know how?"

"Not yet, but go…Fudge will need you." 

Gideon was out of the door before he had finished that sentence. Dumbledore stood and walked to the window, staring out unto his school grounds. Despite the December chill, the students were milling around the grounds, busying themselves with daily life. And for what was not the first time since she died, Dumbledore whispered Victoria's name under his breath and in the next breath, he prayed for Severus. 

His Potions Master, and others like him were being thrown into a war they were hardly prepared for. Gideon, Severus, and other front line troops were tired of war, and sick from the consequences. Their weariness made them weak, and that weakness would be exploited by this new, younger generation of adversaries. 

Mordred wasn't marred by heartache and his youth and zeal would inspire others, and even if he alienated the older generation of Death Eaters- their children would listen to him. Dumbledore found himself thinking of Draco and turning his attention to his Slytherin students. He spotted a group huddled near the lakeshore, chatting among themselves, seemingly content to ignore the lone snake sitting a few feet away from them, staring into the water.

 Angelo Malone, the stepchild of the great Eoin Malone, was inheritor of a dubious legacy, for if Mordred was destined by his father to Voldemort's Prince, Angelo was destined to become the Dark Lord's prized servant.   

It was because of this, Amissa kept a close eye on the boy, as if waiting for this Death Eater in training to make his move. Dumbledore knew full well of Amissa's attentions to the boy, but Severus trusted Angelo to move past that looming fate and make his own destiny, just as Albus trusted his old Potions Master to be more then what he thought he could be. Snape's greatest strength lied not in his prowess as a strategist or a fighter, but in his ability to believe in a cause despite every odd stacked against him. Snape would finally have to come into his own in this battle and become the leader and Auror he was always meant to be.

 "I was having the most beautiful dream…I was on a beach with lots of beautiful, half naked women who had no other purpose then to make me…" Severus moaned as the Kaga entered his room and pulled him from his bed. The woman pushed a cloak at him that Snape threw over his t-shirt and pants. He wiped the sleep from his eyes, and shook his head to free himself from the slumber. "Who are you and what are you doing in my bedroom?"

            The Kaga was little more then a child. She was fourteen by Snape's best guess, and after years of seeing puberty-racked girls hide or display their assets, he was (sadly) an expert. "Hart, and I'm escorting you to a secure location. Follow me."

            "Hello Hart, now where and why?" Snape said, pleasantly. He had no intentions of making this guard even more uncertain then she was, especially considering the wand she had aimed at anything that moved.  
            "Please just follow me, sir." She said, dragging him to the fireplace. She threw powder into the flames and demanded, "Arsan Duolai!"

            "…the hell?" Snape mumbled, before getting that retching feeling in the pit of his stomach as he was pulled from cold night into the bright, sun filled hall that was alive with the sounds of people screaming to each other in English, Gaelic and Welsh. He ducked away from the window. "Bloody hell, Hart, must you take where the sun is shining!"

            "I see you still aren't a morning person, even after all this time."

            "…I know that voice. That's Satan's voice…Chaim!"

            "It's good to know you remember me but I always thought that was your name." Chaim Drame said, walking to him with the same cocky smile that used to annoy the hell out of Snape. He was still sickeningly handsome. His dark brown skin was molded perfectly to his frame while his gentle round face, nestled under a crown of honey colored curls, made his golden eyes still gleamed with political savvy. The twenty-year time gap didn't seem to have changed that. As he made his way to Snape, two other men followed him in suit, probably his aides. 

Now, maybe because of the memories Chaim invoked or just the loneliness of being a stranger in an unfamiliar Hecate and finding a familiar face, Snape took some odd comfort from seeing Chaim again. 

            Of course, a lot could be said about feeling comfortable when meeting your once rival in your pajamas. 

            "Hart, Fay has just assigned you to Councilman Byron. He's with Mallory in the East Gardens."

            Hart nodded and disappeared from Snape's side as quickly as she had appeared. Snape looked at Chaim, "Why is Dimitri Byron here?" He deadpanned, turning around and watching people mill around him, apparently on very important business. "And while we're at it, where is here?"

            "Grant, why don't you take that?" Drame said, turning to the taller of the two aides. He bowed to Snape. "Given our past, I doubt Armsman, excuse me, Professor Snape would want me to help."  

"Chaim, wait…where am I?"

"South Africa, sir." 

"And why is Bryon here?"

"I can assure you, sir, that Grant will fill you in on all you need to know…"

"Stop calling me 'sir,' Chaim, it's kind of spooky." 

            Chaim smirked at him. "I know. That's half the reason I do it. Now, if you'll forgive me, Erised has left something very important in my care and I want to attend to it."

Snape felt a tremor of fear and awe rise up inside of him. "Wait, Erised's here? Let me see her! Drame, wait…" 

"This isn't the time to ask about old girlfriends, Grunt." Spoke the shorter of the aides left behind. 

Snape turned at the name Grunt, but the cocky look faded when he saw who was speaking. "As I live and breath; Alonzo Lee. You bastard, I thought you would have been dead by now."

Alonzo Lee merely nodded, before motioning for Snape to follow. "Come on, we need to get you in uniform, and back with your squad. The new Minister is being sworn in as we speak and Hawke is already meeting with the Council and the IWC representative." 

"What's happened?"

"Haven't you heard? There's a war that's started."


	12. Angels' Lament

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait. This is slightly unedited, give me time and I'll replace if needed. Stole a quote from Buffy and Spike…and let's see, I think I'm done. Oh yeah- shameless plug: Any Star Wars fans out there, please check out my new story, "In Memoriam."

**Chapter Twelve: Angels' Lament**

            Snape had never felt such inner turmoil in all his life and that was saying something. His whole body ached as if he had been in battle with Eoin Malone while he mind raced as if trapped in one of Silas' mental games. Tears stung his eyes and the defenses that once demanded his silence were themselves silenced. His natural order of things: to asset a situation, then his counterattack had shut down. Instead the only thing that was running through his head was incoherent grief as he struggled to understand what had happened today.

            An entire government slain in the place they were suppose to be most safe. An entire government, within a span of only a few hours, with one man- quite literally nobody when placed against those who were lost- to tell the tale. 

            It left his mind reeling with pain fear, for even as Prince at the high of his power, Snape would have never dared something like this. The truth behind his coronation was he hadn't orchestrated the Day of the Dead massacre, and during the Dark Times there had been no need for large campaigns to provoke fear. Since Voldemort's return, nothing outside of Silent Night could remotely compare to this and even that battle had been retarded by his own actions to prevent the killing from getting to out of hand. 

This assault on the Ministry of Magic had been meant to strike terror and create an appearance of invincibility for Voldemort's new Black Prince. And heaven help them all, but it worked. Since the news of the attack had reached him, Snape had being coming to grips with a powerful little truth that was rapidly impeding his senses and destroying his confidence.

            He could not fight Mordred and win. 

            But, he would fight.

            Folding his arms around his stomach, Severus pressed himself against the stone and stared into the endless landscape of Arsan Duolai. 

Whereas Hecate Compound was built for war, this place was created for peace. Its ample vegetation and crawling plants had long since begun to eat away at the masonry and opened up the buildings to the gardens around it. Here nature took hold of the buildings and peeled back the walls to bring the people who inhabited Arsan closer to the timeless paradise around them. Heaven touched the horizon here, and created a home for the Angels.

For this was the Kaga's homeland.

Meant as a secret haven for the beleaguered and war torn, this utopia was founded by one of Snape's ancestors at the end of a brutal, bloodthirsty war that had left the Aurors without a home. According to the legend, after recouping here for half a year, the Aurors began to make their new home in America- called Hecate. To the Kaga, the Aurors entrusted Arsan Duolai where they, under the direction of a sole human Governor, could live away from outsiders, providing a sort of mystical stronghold that the Aurors could use in desperate times as a sanctuary.

Snape could feel the peace that surrounded him but could not partake of it. Didn't this paradise know he needed her peace now? If this place was supposed to be heaven, why wasn't it sending him an angel to help in his quest?

As this new wave of sorrow overtook him, he became aware of a voice. So soft, it was virtually drowned by the roar of nearby ocean but just as steady. Low, rhythmic and unbroken the voice, female, broke through the warmth of the night and straight pass Severus' fears to pierce his heart. In the darkness of the night, through the shadows and surrealism that the citadel's decaying buildings and curtains of foliage appeared the woman, dwarfed by her surroundings but at the same time possessive of them. She walked towards him in a fixed gait that dominated her surroundings, causing them to wait at bay while at the same time twisting them unto her until for a split second; Severus thought there was an actual angel responding to him. The long coat she wore despite the African heat whipped around her frame, creating wings that only served to collaborate this initial belief. 

The woman's voice was becoming clearer as she drew closer but never wavering in its rhythm as his would have. 

"Saint Michael, Archangel, defend us in battle." She was saying, and upon invoking the name of Snape's archrival, awakening his readiness to fight. "Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; And do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all the other evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen." 

            Snape rose to his feet, planting them where he stood and balling his fist by his side. "Would you seek to face me before the judgment, my Prince?" She asked, noting his battle stance. 

"I am for you, Michael." He said, quietly. 

She moved first. She threw a jab at him, which he sidestepped and countered with his own. She slapped his hand away, pushing him back, pulling her wand and leveling it to his neck. He smiled at her, slamming his hand into her gut. She winced, falling back and kicking at his legs. He stumbled back, hitting his back against the wall. "Let's dance."

"Is that what you think were doing?" She demanded, her stance ready for a fight.

"That's all we've done." He hissed, swinging hard. 

She ducked, coming up with an uppercut. He tasted blood, and returned the favor. 

There was no motive behind this battle; only tradition fueled these ancient enemies. They each fought for their own reasons- hers was an attempt to control her pain and despair, his was to only protection himself and face this, his one true adversary.

When he drove his knee into her gut, any other person would have screamed but she was too well trained. She took what punches she failed to block with grace and strength, knowing in the back of her mind he would do the same. They worked together, knowing each one's movements and weaknesses but neither using the knowledge. Instead, this was they merely existed in this state of battle as they namesakes had- forever embattled, with neither side ever achieving victory. This was a dance Severus was too familiar with, and too weary with to let continue any longer. He shuttered, feeling a well of emotion rise up in his throat. 

"However," He said suddenly. "The thing about dancing is…" He pushed his weight into her left side, striking her crippled hand. She instantly fell to her knees in pain. She twisted to recover but never had the chance too. Snape had his wand trained on her. "You never get to stop." 

Becka looked up, meeting his eyes, and waiting. Her short crop of golden hair was spiked slightly, framing her narrow face like a halo as her sharp gray eyes bore into his. She was regarding him with a sleek, impassionate look- without hate, without love, without any emotion whatsoever. It was almost that she didn't belong to this world, but was something more, again something…

…almost angelic.

Severus felt the strength leave his legs for they buckled. He stepped back, watching her and hating the revelation as it came to him. This creature could not be his Angel, not Eoin's faithful sister, not Malachi's dutiful Companion. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. Death was better then this.

In his eyes, she must have seen the truth. "So, what happens now?" She waited for a beat before favoring him with a cold, calculating smile. "This is the prefect time to turn and walk away."

"What?"

"Just walk away…that's what you do best, isn't it?" 

"Erised…"

"Don't call me that." She said, raising to her feet "That name means nothing now."

"I don't believe it. No, this isn't right. It can't be. You're not a traitor."

"Neither were you, Akel Dama's pride."

"No! You were suppose to be the unbreakable, the one who could protect them no matter what!" Snape stumbled back. "You were suppose to be an Angel."

            "Still clinging to your stories and dreams, I see." She said, idly. "Let me tell you something Snape, there's no such thing as Angels. There are no heroes, no good guys. There's no such thing as good or evil, right or wrong. We're just soldiers fighting for our side because we have too. It doesn't matter that we might die for the cause because the cause isn't worthwhile- there's no honor in it! Honor is dead! Stop searching for hope. Stop dreaming for a better life. Curse god, and die." She said fiercely. She turned away from him, walking towards the ocean. "We already dead."

Severus watched her, hearing her words but not understanding. Although it was Erised's voice, it couldn't be her. This defeat, this callousness was not her nature. It couldn't be. To admit this would tear down Heaven, and he would not. He would not- could not- believe that this war had made an Angel into a demon.

It never occurred to him that his was the same fate. 

For a long time, he stared at her figure, searching for remains of the part of Erised that was his, the part that had given the strength he had once felt, the strength he would need now. He reached deep inside of him and pulled it out, remembering the memory of his former squad and his fallen brothers. He called upon the memory of his name and legacy as if those memories held more power then this demon before him- and that through this gathering and edification he could somehow reclaim what despair had stolen. 

"You speak of dead dreams and lost hope. But it's not true- as long as there is life, there is hope, Angel." He felt a surge of reassurance as she physically flinched from the title. "See I would rather die then believe that. I have hope. Do you remember that? I once knew a woman who knew of hope, she spoke of it and maybe she even dared to believe it…"

"And she suffered for her foolishness! Everything she held dear was lost."

"But that was no excuse to stop living. That was no excuse to give up and stop fighting! To hide behind a face of apathy and send others to their death!"

"Don't you dare talk to me about how many people have died? You were the Dark Prince! Don't you dare try and lecture to me on the blood on my hands. You've killed more people then I ever could."

The words that came next were in his voice, but Severus didn't recognize them, even as he spoke them, and thereby made them real. The voice was his but also foreign- as if it was some younger, or wiser part of himself that had been so long denied, and now would not be silent. The words were spoken, and therefore made real and tangible- for in them were his redemption finally realized.

"You're right. I have. I lost everything, and instead of feeling that pain, I hid from it. I used my skills as a cover, used my anger as an excuse. When that turned on me, I used my intelligence to hide again. I've spent my whole life hiding behind one guise or another, refusing to see what I am. It was never my fault, I said, never my choice- but that's just another mask, and I won't be masked anymore. I won't walk away anymore. I won't turn away and be silent anymore. If I fail, at least I'll die in uniform."

He watched as Becka, as Erised, turned and move back towards the citadel. As she walked away from him, he called to her. She turned and regarded him with those eyes of hers that had once been so alive, now only seemed hallowed and dead. He looked deep into them and wished for the words that could make everything better. He longed to touch her again, as he had, longed to inspire her as her memory had done for him. A long forgotten promised rose to his lips. "Beyond hope."

She just turned and walked away.


	13. Mapping Armageddon

**Chapter Thirteen: Mapping Armageddon**

            **New Ministry Meets with Hecate **

**                        By: Lewis Llewellyn**

**            London- Minister of Magic Dimitri Byron is hosting Master at Arms Aiden Hawke and his entourage today, as they discuss the newest security measures and a possible offensive strike. This comes almost a month after the vicious attack on the Ministry of Magic general conference that left England without a ruling government for one long hour. This attack was orchestrated by a new foe the Death Eater, self-dubbed the Black Prince, has claimed he is the successor of the Dark Prince whose attacks on individuals made him a legend. This new Prince shows a startling difference from his predecessor, allowing no discernment, attacking both civilian and soldier. His attack on the Ministry was supplemented by various attacks on influential Minister's families. He effectively wiped out not only men but also memory in his brutal attack.**

Then, with praise-worthy speed, the secondary government was formed and granted power. Now, in accordance with an emergency general election, Dimitri Byron has been installed to finish Fudge's term of office. Readers will remember his somewhat controversial appointment as late Minister Fudge's chief aide because of his ties with the supposed "Hogwarts Illuminatti," a group of influential families that later were exposed as followers of You-Know-Who. Among his appointees for new Ministers included: Arthur Weasley, Amos Diggory, Dylan Delacriox, Chastity Remington and Gideon Mallory and then, in a largely contested move he removed Walden McNair and Lucius Malfoy from the offices and positions of power they've held. He has also arrested and jailed numerous Ministry workers without charging them formally.  Also, critics will say he forced the vote of the IWC last week to return Hecate's sovereignty to the Compound. (Full that full story, see page 11a)

**The meeting today will include Byron, and Minister of Law Enforcement Gideon Mallory and is expect to last throughout the week. Also present during the meetings will be representatives from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry who will be acting on behalf of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. The Daily Prophet has been denied knowledge of the exact location of meeting with Hawke, due to new security measures. However, Minister Byron has assured us that he plans address the nation about this upcoming threat. He has also sworn a quick vengeance. **

"We know one thing for certain, the Black Prince is short on time and support. We believe this has caused him to accelerate his plans before he has properly understood all the variables." Phoenix Hawke rang clear against the whitewashed walls of Hecate Compound. He was standing at the head of the table, motioning to the papers in his folders where everything about the war was measured and weighed and understood. "To that end, this most recent action has gone to show us…"

"Excuse me." Byron said carefully, raising his hand to stop Hawke. "Did you say 'action,' Master at Arms?"

Hawke threw a glance at Severus who was sitting directly across from Byron. Snape, anticipating a problem sat up, nodding at Hawke to continue. "Yes, sir I did."

"Sixty-five elected officials were killed, sir, and with them, the families of thirty of the most influential members. These men and women were wives and husbands, children and parents and I will not have you label away their death in my presence as a mere military action." Bryon said with passion cracking his voice. Beside him, his cousin and Hogwarts representative, Amissa Moon took his hand and squeezed. 

Snape met Amissa's eyes thankfully. She merely nodded at him before turning away. His eyes lingered on her long after hers had passed, partially in awe of seeing the child he had known in school- and then, the innocent girl who had taken Sydney's heart by storm, now in a position of authority and prestige. For him, Amissa belonged in the past and as such a vision; she had been untouched by the age and hardship that had turned him. She had remained his mind as whole and young and lovely as Dora or Billy…

Or Ari. 

With his heart twisting in his chest, Snape turned to the only person not sitting at the table in the room. Becka was pressed against the corner near the door, watching and appearing to remain aloof to the proceedings of the room. She had a cigarette in her hand but it was unlit and just nestled there-probably to give her something to do. 

Their eyes met for a brief spell, before Hawke's voice broke Snape's concentration on his fallen angel with the only words that could have.

"We believe there is a spy somewhere inside the information network, Minister. Through him, we believe that the Black Prince was able to gain access to the meeting and commit his crime. We also believe this person is the one who has forced the Prince's hand to move now."

"How? How can one person sway the course of war?" Bryon asked.

"Ask Snape." Becka said from her hiding place. She walked forward and flinched visibly from the light she passed through. 

Byron met her eyes, then Hawke's. He inhaled. "Then I want the spy's head. I want you to focus all of your resources on retrieving him for me. He should be our main goal."

"Well," Becka said sweetly, "If you want him, here I…"

"This is not the time for spy hunting." Snape said, startling Hawke and Amissa with the passion and strain in his voice. "Trying to find a Judas only subtracts from what should be our real goal: defeating the Dark Lord. Believe me…" He added softly. "nothing good comes of it…" Becka was watching him keenly now, and despite herself, poured him a glass of water from a pitcher set out for them. She studied his hands as they brought the cup to his mouth, trembling as if cold. Snape was aware of his trembling but could not stop it, so instead he merely set the cup down and looked up. "Don't you agree, Minister?"

Remus Lupin, the other Hogwarts envoy, chose this time to speak. "So now that the Black Prince is rushed to act again, where and how will he act?"

"He doesn't need prove anything now, so this attack will be for the gold." Hawke said.

Snape smiled gratefully at Remus before continuing. "And that means even Voldemort himself will fight this time and he'll go after what he wants most of all…"

"Hecate and Hogwarts." Becka said, simply and with it, cutting through all the foreshadowing and unnecessary brooding. She flicked her fingers together, igniting the cigarette and inhaled deeply. Quietly, knowing she had the attention of everyone in the room, she exhaled with leisure and then spoke again. "The Dark Lord, his Prince and every other little thing that goes bump in the night he can ally with will come down on Hogwarts and Hecate…and it'll happen soon."

"How soon?" Bryon asked. 

"He'll attack first of November." Snape said; staring hard at the cup of water as if it gave him sight into the future. "For Hogwarts, it'll be the day after Halloween and the school will be recouping from the feast. For Hecate…"

"For Hecate, it'll be the day the Dark Prince first attacked. The day Hecate fell."

"We'll have to shut down the orphanage then, and the school." Hawke muttered. "Send all the kids and non-essential personnel to Arsan Duolai. We'll send whatever Aurors we can to Hogwarts, to protect the school. Unless the Minister will close down Hogwarts?"

"Dumbledore wouldn't allow it." Amissa shot out. "Besides, if we run and hide…when will stop?"

"Will there be any other attacks on civilian outposts? I mean, do I need to fear anyone else's families being slaughtered…Hogsmeade, Godric's Hallow?"

"No," Snape said softly. "Like Hawke said, there's nothing to prove here. All this is going to be about is death. It'll be the final battle. There'll be no going back."

It took those words to seal the deed. Amissa pushed away from the table to hide in her hands. Beside her, Remus shifted and pulled her closer into his arms. Gideon, who had sat the entire time in stoic silence, began to whisper to Byron possible additional courses of action. Hawke merely glanced back to his files, determined not be affected.

"You six people have just mapped out your part of Armageddon." Becka said crisply from her new perch in a large chair at the fair end of the table. The cigarette hung between her fingers letting the smoke waft to the heavens. "Congratulations." 

Snape pushed away from the table and he too rested his head in hands.

And he prayed for his son. ****

"Mother…Mother…no, stop. Please, stop…no, mother…MOTHER!" 

Mordred Eames jolted up in bed, sweating and tangled up in his bed sheets. His bare chest rose and fell quickly from the fear that was pulsing through his body. He turned and stared out the window, looking at the thin slice of moon before running his fingers through his hair. He pulled himself out of bed and walked towards the vanity. 

The man staring back at him was handsome, with shaggy black hair falling at all angles around his sallow face. Thin, with high cheekbones that jutted from his skin, his wine colored eyes blazed from his face. His eyes traveled down to his body, specifically to the spikes that peered just over his shoulders. On his back, following his shoulder muscles and all the way down to his hands was a tribal style tattoo of dark purple. Purple was the color of royalty and majesty in Britain and he had chosen it for that very reason. His mother had always taken great pains to instill within Mordred his own nobility that it seemed only proper that he should always bear this color. The design itself was chosen for its irregularity and its similarity to the countless scars that he had given to himself in hopes of drawing blood and forcing himself to feel pain. 

Even as he recounted those moments, part of him craved for a knife to create it again. He longed to feel again something that would bring him back. Something that would force him to relive emotions, to keep them as memories like his tattoos and give him a history that had nothing to do with destroying the only thing he desired in life…

"My Prince?" Mordred turned to see Choice enter his room. Choice was barefoot, with sweatpants on and nothing else. He walked towards Mordred, and stopped when he discovered Mordred was naked. Throwing his head down, Choice licked his lips before speaking again. "Forgive me, Prince. I thought you were in trouble."

"Come to help my assailant?" Mordred snorted angrily. He stood and slipped into the robe that hung off his chair. "Would you have just taken my life by yourself?"

"I came to protect you, milord."

"Why?"

"Because you are my Prince."

Mordred tilted his head as he walked slowly to Choice, cupping the man's chin in his hand. He stared into Choice's cobalt eyes for a long time. "Why are you here? For a memory and a hope?"

"That's all I have left."

"Now, you sound like Eoin." Mordred snorted and turned away, "So, what happened today in the Court?"

"Lord Voldemort was finalizing the battle plans." Choice said feeling bold and walking to Mordred. He put his arms on the Prince's elbows and guided him back to the bed. "Isaiah and Ezra just left. Lucius is still talking with Imre."

"And I was not invited?"

"It was felt that you should be allowed to focus on Severus…"

"In other words, I'm used to provoke fear and nothing else." He said, bitterly. "I'm nothing to these people but a hired, cultivated boogeyman. My father was Prince and general of the armies! My mother was feared, as the Dark Lord's would be heir! Imre and Eoin were my teachers…and look at me." Mordred traced his vein on his wrist and pretended his finger was a blade. "I am nothing but a parlor trick."

Choice said nothing as he returned the Prince to his bed. He didn't know what to say. What do you say to the killer of your soul mate? What do you say to the boogeyman? Despite the fact, he may have no real threat or prowess; he was still a dark and formidable creature. He was still the devil and how do you comfort the devil?

This was no story where the devil was something that could be stripped away and revealed as just an actor. This was no figment of a dark dreaming, and the battle that would come into play would be fierce and final. And this boy, shivering from nightmares in the dark, was pivotal to it- all because of his feud with his father. 

"You hate me, don't you me?" Mordred's voice asked. "That's alright, you're supposed to. I'm supposed to be hated. Everyone hates me…even my father."

"What would you have do instead, my Prince, when you have killed his daughter."

"Love his son."


	14. Death and Rebirth

_Unedited, enjoy and wow, look- it's a return of the plot! Read and review and beware, the end is finally coming. _

**Chapter Fourteen: Death/Rebirth**

The cold night made Becka's breath visible on the night air and to amuse herself, she blew out to study the white plumes of smoke. She watched as the white air disappeared into sky before turning her attention to the leering Jack o Lanterns that were peering at her through their clear triangle shaped eyes. Back during their glory days, such pumpkin guardians were meant to ward against demons or other bumps in the night, now they were widely considered only as a seasonal family project. 

Erised herself had never enjoyed such traditions or customs that most took for granted. Her father had been a Kaga, while her mother had the wife of a President. Their offspring- a twin boy and girl- had been promptly shuttled away and forgotten. For the first decade of her life, she had been drugged, charmed, transfixed and drilled into a perfect ubermensch and for the decade that followed that, while most magical children were barely beginning their schooling at places like Hogwarts and Hecate, she was already serving as child soldiers. She had never regretted this life for more then a few passing moments when she would see innocence and simplicity and forget for that moment that hers was a higher calling. 

Her brother Eoin, on the other hand, had never had her resolve and discipline to fully devote himself to the Kaga. He lent himself only to those great and wonderful ideals of family. He had left Hecate Compound when he was only sixteen, in search of his father. He found Conaire Malone working as a weapon for hire for a then Tom Riddle and would eventually take his place as the Dark Lord's very own Kaga Companion. Eoin Malone's life was fuller and happier then any life Eoin Hecate could have- with a stepmother, half-brother, wife, two boys and a small, unassuming home in Kings County, Ireland. 

Eoin had lived a full life, and when it was time, had died attempting to destroy an evil he had helped foster for too long. Erised had received word of Eoin's death through her brother Kiernan but had never understood the reasons behind it. She didn't need too. All she had really needed to know was that Eoin's murderer had been a girl child called Kaiya Alchemy. 

The daughter of Severus Snape, and her own pupil. 

In her mind eye, she could still see the fourteen-year-old girl who had searched her out because she had barely discovered her father's existence. Kaiya was a small, wild haired child who had crept into her office with the hope that she could find some idea about what kind of a man was the Auror-turned teacher. Kaiya had said Gideon Mallory had referred her to Erised, and wanted to know anything she could about the man. Erised had approached the subject carefully and sanitarily at first- like all Kaga would have when remembering a past charge. 

But how do you recall and write off three years of your life to a child? How to you contain and clean up all the pain and pleasure of an idealistic youth and explain to a girl that you saw her father when he was a Romantic and a dreamer and watched him become what he is today. How do you explain the fall of such a great man as Severus Snape? 

Truth is, you don't. 

Erised had told the only story she had known. She had spoken of the man she had loved, the Auror who was the child of Aurors before him and had done great things in the name of justice. She had spoken of the father, and friend and comrade and soldier. She had told the story of Severus that he himself had forgotten. She had told and Kaiya had believed. Kaiya had believed and in turn made real by choosing to following his path and becoming an Auror. 

In the days that followed Kaiya's death, Erised wondered if she had included the pain in with the pleasure, the bitterness in with the hope- would Kaiya still be living today? Would it have mattered in the end? And if it did matter, to whom would it have mattered? To Erised? To Severus? 

Severus… 

So much of Erised's life had been shaped by his, without the slightest hint of knowledge on his part. He had become her obsession, ever lingering, and immortal like some stain-glassed deity that was never realized and never understood. His presence was a doubled bladed sword, a two faced god that was at once comforting and fearful, merciful and jealous. She had spent half her life protecting him from coups within the Death Eater ranks, and the other half attempting to destroy him. Such a precarious and tenacious love, it had all but destroyed her. 

And even now, it didn't release her. 

Which was why Erised was freezing her butt off in the English winter while waiting for Choice to appear. It was purely for Severus' sake that she was searching for Choice. The man had already lost too much; she would not allow him to lose Choice too. She had used all the resources she had at disposal as Saint Michael to search for Choice, but as fate would have it, he had found her. He had written her to meet him here at Hogsmeade. 

She had thought it was odd, picking such a public space, especially if he was hiding from the Death Eaters like he said but she knew better then to question desperate men. Besides, there was no way the Dark Lord would attempt something here so close to Hogwarts. Despite herself, she turned and glanced at the school. Things were complicated sometimes, too complicated for her own liking and she longed for the days when the world was simpler- black and white. 

"Michael?" Erised almost jumped and turned to watch Choice appear from the shadows. He looked up at her through tired eyes and pulling his hair back with his hands. "Are you alone?" 

"Yeah, I am. Why, should I have brought a medic…" She looked him over, and moved closer. "Choice, you look like…" Her words were cut short by a soft, guttural growl coming from the corner as a young handsome man appeared from behind Choice. He was looking up despite his bowed head and watching her with intense eyes. She instantly recognized Eddie, and raised a brow, dropping her hand over her wand, "Choice, get behind me." 

Choice looked away and didn't move. The figure of approached to his side, and did nothing. There was another flutter of movement in the dark, making Erised tense even more and waiting. Another man appeared, this one was older then the young werewolf. He smiled at her carefully and raised his hand, as if he was prepare to draw on the air. There was a stirring in the pit of her stomach that began to grow into full-blown fear. Erised looked up and found Choice's eyes around the same time he found a voice. 

"I'm sorry, Michael." He said simply. 

Erised glanced at the two men and knew somehow there were more around her. "So am I." 

"Touching, Angel, very touching." Erised heard an old familiar voice sing as he walked in. This face was from Erised's memory and caused the fear to swell and choke her. It was Ezra. The werewolf that had been with Silas on Day of the Dead. 

The demon, who with Silas, had raped her and laughed. 

Ezra seemed to recognized this and laughed again. "Yes…you remember me, don't you? I remember you. I remember that pitiful creature who moaned and bayed like a dumb animal when Silas had his way with you…and you know what, I don't think all of you resisted." No one had pulled their wands yet, seemingly intent to wait until Ezra had finished his baiting. "Can't say I wouldn't love a second visit, but sadly I won't get that chance." He looked up, and smiled softly. "I'm here on behalf of Imre. He's willing to spare your life if you cooperate." 

"You can tell Imre to kiss my natural Kaga ass." 

Ezra raised a brow. "I'm not your enemy, Michael and you know it. You could care less about this war, and that makes us friends so why don't you drop the pretense and just tell me what I need to know." 

"You should never spit into the wind or go swimming right after eating." 

"Imre just wants to know where you put it." 

"Put what?" 

"What you stole from him in Africa, that's all he's after…give it to him, and you'll have the chance to walk away from all this." 

"Why? So you can shoot me in the back, no thank you." 

"So you can come home." 

Erised felt her heart twist as she turned, ignoring her enemies and looking on Isaiah's gaunt, pale face. Those deep, murky blue eyes of his were staring into hers with infinite sadness that was a stark contrast to the power he gave off. The vampire was watching her keenly, and spoke again, walking closer to her. "And you know it's time. The war, for you, has lost its purpose. There is nothing here for you. If you remain, all you'll see is death and destruction…" 

Turning again to look upon Choice and the others, Erised looked at them all, then caught sight of Hogwarts looming in the distance. There were so many youngsters there, with no idea that the world end painfully soon for them. In her mind's eyes, she saw a vision- she knew it must be one and it seemed to stretch into eternity. She could hear the screams of dead now, and see the pale, drawn faces and see their hands reach to her with trembling, bony hands that had the flesh seared from the bone and marrow. She saw a fire burning as bright as a star, that pierced through her mind's eyes and causing her to bow her head. 

Dropping her hands to her sides, Erised began to whisper. "Then the angel sounded, and a great star fell from heaven, burning like a torch…and the name of the star was Wormwood…" 

With that, she fell to her knees, pulling both wands and screaming "Crucio!" 

~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

"I have a responsibility to these people, Bram! I can't leave them now, I told Ezra this!" 

"You have a greater responsibility to our pack, and you know it!" 

Remus looked up and stared at Bram's callow face and as always was struck about how much Bram resembled his father. Abraham had been one of Remus' mentors, a second father to him when Remus had been nothing more then a frightened child fresh out of Hogwarts and barely stepping into a world where he would be exiled and feared for a condition he could not help. During those times, even the Marauders seemed so far away, and Abraham was kind and gentle. He was also something the Marauders could never be- another werewolf who had once been as frightened and as unsure of himself as Remus felt then. It had been Abraham who had taken him to the haven that was the Astor Estate, was Abraham who had encouraged him to take up a career in Dark Arts study and to one day endeavor to teach.

And even now, Remus could see Abraham's passionate resolve in his son's face. But unlike his father, Bram hadn't fought in the first War. Abraham had fought- and died- in the war, as had his wife and Elise. It had been a vicious, bloody battle and before the end, it had left Remus wondering what could have been so damn important to lose all those people. He had decided then never to fight again.

A choice he been able to honor until today. Today was different. Today was chaotic and deadly in it's own right but only promised more before the end. Today, like Erised had said, was the beginnings of Armageddon and he knew it. But how do you explain to a boy who's lost his parents that they had died for the wrong side?

Truth is, you don't.

"I love you and Ezra and the others, but I won't fight and die for them when they sign themselves over so willingly to the Dark Lord. Don't you see Voldemort only wants us to die for him? If we fight and win, Voldemort won't give us the power we want. He's use us and he'll betray us."

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do and so do you, Bram. Even if you won't speak, you know that what I say is true, because you have felt it."

Bram bowed his head, and studied his hands. "…I won't betray Ezra, Remus. I can't. He's done so much for us."

"I'm not betraying Ezra." Remus whispered, and hated himself for not fully believing what he was saying. "But I'm not following him in his lies either. I've lost too much to fight for lies."

"And yet you would fight and die for the promise of a boy." Bram looked up but this time to study the school. "You all place so much on this boy's shoulders, it hardly seems fair."

"I know."

"Do you?" Bram asked. He had risen from his seat across from Remus and shrugged into his dirty blue coat. In the dark sky, with the way shadows played over his face, Remus could have sworn it was Abraham. "After tonight, nothing will be certain anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Bram pushed open the door and looked at him, quietly. "Tonight even Angels can die."

Remus lolled over in his mind what Bram had said for the next half hour, and couldn't shake either the confusion or the fear that peppered his mind. It hadn't been a threat, merely a statement that had seemed to trouble Bram himself. He wondered if he should warn Severus, he had once been named after an Angel if Remus remembered correctly and then, in the next beat recalled that Snape probably didn't need any help or warning. The man was god when it came to dealing with troubles and problems. A small, begrudged smile overtook Remus' features. 

Once, just once, Remus wanted to be as cool and in control of the situation as Severus always seemed. 

"You're up late." Remus turned and smiled at Amissa Moon. She was standing in her robe, with one hand holding a mug of what was probably hot chocolate and the only hand tucked into her robe's pocket. She smiled at him, "Couldn't sleep?" 

Remus shrugged. "Last minute duties, what about you?" 

Amissa's eyes flickered. "Bad dreams…I hate Halloween." 

"Why? I always remember you running around with the rest of the Illuminatti and causing mayhem." 

Again, she smiled but this time, it was smaller, contained and rueful as if the memory all at once comforted and pained her. "I did. But Sydney died on Day of the Dead and Halloween usually just reminds me that another anniversary of his death is going to past and I can't even visit his grave…not really." 

"I don't understand." Remus said, as crossed the distance to her. 

"They never recovered his body. We had a funeral for him of course…but it was just an empty casket. I remember I had this wild notion that because they had been no body, he wasn't really dead…that some mistake had been made and he'd return to me." She looked up at him, and snorted. "I know it sounds cliché but I never thought he was dead, not really. It was this feeling I had in the pit of my stomach that he was still alive. Half of me still believes that it's true." 

Remus put his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. "In a way he is alive. As long as you or someone remembers them, they are never gone, are they?" 

"Do you really believe that?" 

"I try to." He nodded. "Because I don't think I can stand being without some people…" 

"Like Kaiya?" 

"Kaiya, yeah…like her." He said, quietly. "Honestly, I was never in Kaiya's heart, not like Choice. I was just there at the right time, you know? I was there to hold her at a time she needed to be held…and not that I mind either." He smiled. "I wouldn't give up the time I had with Kaiya, or the son she gave me for anything in the world but I knew I wouldn't be who she wanted. I was just an intermezzo in her life, before Choice came back." 

Amissa nodded thoughtfully. "It's never the same after you find true love. It wasn't for me at least. After someone like Sydney, or Elise for you I imagine, it doesn't feel the same because they'll always be there. All you can do is go on…" 

"And hope you find someone who can make you feel just as secure and brave as they made you feel." 

"Or hope at the very least hope you find someone that you can be all those things for." Amissa whispered, stopping and looking into Remus' eyes. "That's what you did for Kaiya…that's what you do for me.' 

Remus frowned, and tilted his head. "For you?" 

"Well yeah," She said simply. "I mean, come on Remus, with you around and holding on to me…what could possibly go wrong?" She blushed and looked down, pushing open the door to her room. "Goodnight Rehmy…" 

Remus allowed her to take one step into the room before reaching out and grabbing her wrist. He pulled her so close to him that she made a sound as she bumped into his chest. She looked up, watching him carefully as Remus leaned down and kissed her softly. Amissa dropped the chocolate she was holding and pushed her hand through his hair before deepening the kiss. 


	15. Immolation and Redemption

**Chapter Fifteen: Immolation/Redemption **

Erised grunted as Eddie pulled her by her hair to her knees. One of her eyes had begun to swell shut and the ringing in her head was now beginning to sound a lot like Carol of the Bells. She forced open her good eye and glanced around. One wand, the one that been held in her crippled left hand, was resting in two pieces next to the Mayon's corpse. She smiled and winced from the pain caused but she would take some grim pleasure from the fact that she had taken someone with her if she was to die tonight. Eddie jerked her head back to face him and since she could see three of him, she decided to address the middle one to be safe.

"Have you had enough?" She asked, quietly. "Ready to give up?"

Eddie laughed and looked at Ezra. "Can you believe this bitch? She's about to die and she's making cracks."

"Let her. She deserves to die with that." Ezra called from the distance. He was standing but barely so. There was a nasty looking burn that covered most of his right arm and he was glowering at her hatefully. The only one untouched was Choice who had stepped back and watched.

Erised's eyes met his with questions that could not be articulated even if she tried. She was too spent to really understand the depth of his betrayal or weigh the consequences of them for her and him. For her, unlike Severus, betrayals and consequences had long since lost their terror. In fact, those once unpardonable sins were now considered her greatest tool. As the powerful and elusive Saint Michael, betrayal had become her art and her weapon. She had done everything that would have made Severus reel and damn himself and she had done it gladly, masterfully and in truth, had reveled in it. That had been her sin throughout the war. She had betrayed and never felt remorse for it.

And now, she would die for the one thing she would never betray.

Erised laughed at this revelation and turned to her betrayal, her Judas who was refusing to her eyes at all. Suddenly this scene-this whole war in fact seemed very funny to her.

"Just answer me this, Choice." She laughed, gingerly. "Why…"

Choice looked up, and Erised could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes. "It's the only way to get Kaiya back…"

"Choice," She whispered, sobering. "Imre isn't the way, this isn't the way. All that lies down this path is pain…and death."

"And yet you lingered, knowing this." Isaiah said quietly as he stood. He had been against the corner, recovering from the hexes she had thrown at him mainly to keep him at bay. Both Erised and Isaiah knew her actions towards him had just been for show.

She could never hurt him.

"Don't you think it's odd, beloved," Isaiah said purposefully. "That you should fight so passionately against your equal? Against your very match..."

"I'm nothing like Imre."

"That's a lie you don't believe anymore." Isaiah said as he knelt before her. "All you know is death and pain, betrayal and rebellion and the truth is, you only feel alive when you can make these. Why else would you make your family among my kind?" He picked up her chin, and looked into her eyes as if he was reading her deepest fears and long guarded secrets. "You don't know how to live, or love. Those things are as foreign to you as the light and truth that the Dark Prince now seeks to fight for. And they will always be so.

"You are a solider, it's written on your skin in those scars you wear proudly. All you know is the pain and destruction you can mete out. I understand now, I really do. You haven't fought in this war because it's right or wrong, or because of the money you could make; it's so you can feel, can create something." He leaned closer. "This war is as much your creation as it is the Dark Lord's but do you know the difference? He fights so that he may rule in peace, you fight because without it, you are nothing."

"No! No, that's not true. No, I'm not…"

"Why else would you love me?" Isaiah asked.

She looked up, pulling her hands into her lap and swallowing down blood. Her entire body quaked from pain, terror and tiredness, but she dug deep inside of herself to focus whatever strength she had left in this. Even if she were to die tonight, she would have this last victory.

"You've saved my life, Isaiah." Her voice was a dull whisper, like a woman reciting her confession to a priest. "You took care of me, and sheltered me from myself. You showed me the world and, in the only way you could, you gave me a son." She looked up, "But I never loved you."

Isaiah pushed to his feet, hissing angrily. "You're lying!"

With the last strength she had, Erised took what would be her last victory. Reaching for the dagger she kept at all times, she slammed into Eddie's thigh with all she had. Eddie howled and lashed at her, throwing her body at Isaiah's feet.

Eddie fell to his knees, still screaming in pain and clutching at the dagger's hilt while trying to pull it out.

"Crippled, old drunk, am I?" She hissed, forcing herself to slouch over as a grim smile covered her face. She wanted to laugh as the silver ran it's purpose through the werewolf's veins but it hurt too much to laugh now. "I hope that hurts, you cocky pain in the ass!"

"Eddie!" Ezra screamed in desperation. He made a motion as if to rescue the younger wolf but dared not lest he suffered a similar fate. He watched helplessly as the young boy convulsed, choked and screamed for a mercy that would never come before finally laying still. Then, followed by a fearsome howl that seemed to shake Ezra's whole body with anger and blood thirst, he turned on Erised. "To hell with Imre's plans! Kill her!"

"Honor your agreement, wolf!" Isaiah growled. Stooping down and grapping Erised like a rag doll, he hauled her to her feet. Erised screamed from the pain, but Isaiah ignored it. He bared his fangs with his own lustful hiss. "She belongs to death already, and therefore she is mine."

Through the haze of death, Erised thought for a moment she heard Choice screaming but recognized that it was her own voice cutting through the air, piercing the clam and cloud. Giving what she had left, she jerked in a feeble attempt to ward off Isaiah but succeeded only in amusing him. In response, Isaiah bit down harder, severing the vein and making Ari's body go limp in his arms before ebbing on his attack. She felt through her pain, the sensation of his arms firmly around her waist and was comforted by it.

There was a warmth and security that came with Isaiah and knowing that he brought an end that was not truly an end. He would bring her into a new world that she could be born into and therefore redeemed from anything and everything of this life. He would create and love her and perhaps by doing so, he would show her everything that she had lacked.

Her legs became heavy and so she allowed them to fail, and just like she knew he would, Isaiah compensated by holding on tighter. She exhaled quietly and stopped fighting.

She was being given a new life after all, all she had to do was wait.

~~*~~ 

Memory sparkled in the early morning light. The aging walls glistened from the pale light and made the messages, pictures and other scribble on the walls stand out like blazing testimonials to times and people forgotten. The gray light made the old beds that been left over from when the building was a dormitory gape out and gleam like bones from an exposed grave, made the half-filled liquor bottles shine their amber colors unto the walls and paint them new memorials. It made the very walls creep and call out silently to anyone who would dare listen, beckoning these listeners to pay attention and remember those fallen soldiers who had been inscribed on its walls and therefore made immortal in the only way they could be.

And in turn, Severus Snape listened and remembered. He could do that if nothing else, he could remember.

He was amazed at the way his feet remembered the paths in this place as if he had never left. Odd it seemed that he, of all the places he remembered in Hecate, would find this the most welcoming. Still, he wasn't about to complain as he walked, tracing his hands on the wall and reading the familiar names of those he had trained and lived with those many years ago. He walked and recalled, loved and mourned a span of twenty years in that brief walk until finally he came to his destination.

To a mural painted in the short, vivid strokes of bright and contrasting colors that seemed untouched by time or care. The mural was of a couple with their backs to each other and their heads bowed. Their clothing was nondescript and faces blurred, so that they could be anyone. There was something sad about the picture until you noticed one part of it…so easily overlooked on first glance people seldom noticed.

They were holding hands.

"I'm sorry I'm so late, guys." He told the couple. "But I'm finally back to see how you've been."

"Don't worry," Snape turned at the sound of the woman's voice. Alexandra Van Ness was walking towards him with a soft, sad smile on her lips. "There are some of us here that have kept them safe until someone came back to take care of them."

Snape returned her smile with a sort of quiet embarrassment. "Thank you."

"I trouble you." She said quietly. "Is it because of my name or my face?"

"Because of your name. I always felt that Sydney was disappointed in me." He blushed from being caught and thought it was amusing that, despite twenty years, he still felt intimidated by his father's protégé. "Truth is, Alexandra…I was always a little terrified of your father."

"Please, call me Lexa. And I'm not surprised. All of his faith rested on you, I can imagine he must have been hard to get along with at times. Sometimes, I wish I knew what he was like. Amissa rarely speaks of him."

"Your father was a great man, and good friend." Snape said, looking back to the mural. "He was trained in the old ways of things and I think that made people like me, Jude and Billy a little difficult to deal with at times." He laughed softly. "Sometimes I use to think he and Erised were tempted to kill us and blame it on the Dark Arts. They probably would have gotten away with it too."

"You think very highly of them all, don't you?"

"They were the best of us all." He said, rubbing his eyes. "They deserved a lot better then what they got."

"All of you do." Lexa said. Snape turned and watched her, confused. She smiled again and reached over, holding his hand. "You were all so young when you went to war. You were forced to grow up around it. That's no life. Those who died, they were lucky. You who were left behind were the ones that really suffered."

"We're all a lost generation." He recited, then laughed. "No, if it hadn't have been the war, it would have been the peace that destroyed us or something else. Every generation is lost by something. We're all left to discover truth and find the willingness to fight for it. It's the way of things."

"Spoken like a true teacher, Professor. I believe you shall be a romantic till you die."

"It has been many years since I've been described as anything remotely like a romantic, Lexa. If anything I would be called a cynic or pessimist."

"Are you?"

"No."

"What do you believe in then?"

He paused to think on this, watching the way the light played on the mural and thinking of many things. He thought of this war and the ones before it. He feared the ones after this and saw in his mind eye's a vision. He knew it must be one and it seemed to stretch to eternity. In this vision, he saw the dead and dying. He saw destruction and pain and sorrow and fear. But even as he watched this terror unfold before him, as he saw the young dying and the old mourning this- he saw life and truth. He saw redemption and rebirth. He saw sacrifices that sealed the life that seemed so fragile it was liable not to survive at all. He saw the sacrifices and knew they would make the life take root and grow. He knew that such a powerful lost for a cause would not be in a vain. He saw the dead at peace and those who were so wounded begin back on a journey of restoration.

A journey he was taking now.

Smiling, he turned to Lexa and whispered. "Hope."

"Sometimes hope isn't enough, my Prince." Snape and Lexa both turned at the arrival of this newest voice. Lucius Malfoy stepped into the light, and pulled back his hood. He stared at Snape intently, and when he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. "Sometimes you can hope all you want for the best results, and death will still come."  


"Why are you here, Lucius." Snape asked, hand dropping to his wand.

"To talk." Lucius turned to Lexa. "Go."

Lexa looked at Snape who nodded. "It's alright. He's a friend."

"Are you sure?" Lexa asked, warily.

"I'm sure." He assured her and offered her another smile. "Go on and enjoy the off day we're getting."

Lucius watched as the girl walked off with distaste. "Have they made my Prince a guidance councilor?"

"She's not your concern."

"But is she yours?"

"Is this what you've come for, Malfoy?" Snape asked, hand still comfortably resting on his wand hilt. "To check on my new vocation?"

"I've come to see if the rumors are true." Lucius countered, walking towards him and kneeling at Snape's feet. "I refuse to believe that any man has conquered he who made the nations tremble."

"Get on your feet, Lucius." Snape said, leaning down and hauling him up before turning away. "I am not that man. Not here." He said mindful of the mural before. He cast his head down, refusing to look on it while he was being referred to as Prince.

"But you are that man, every part of you is. This place…" Lucius made a gesture around Memory. "…is your past, not your present. We're your present and your future. Why are you here fighting this war instead of with your people?"

"I am where I belong." He said. "Mordred is your Prince now."

"Your son will kill us all!" Malfoy hissed. "I joined the Death Eaters because I believed in the sanctity of my blood and the right to protect it but in doing so, so much pureblood has been lost. The Dark Lord has gone mad, my Prince, he has placed a child where a warrior belongs- where you belong! How much longer will you stand by while that which is rightfully yours is taken from you?"

"You don't know what you're saying…"

"I speak the truth, Severus!" He walked towards Snape and swung him to face him. "The Dark Lord can no longer protect our kind. He has become unfit for leadership. The Death Eaters demand a leader who will fight for what we have died for- for our blood and ours lives. You are that person, Severus, even if you don't want to admit it- you are. The same passion that beats in my heart beats in yours. How can you abandon us when we need you most?"

Snape pulled away from him but held him at arm's length. "Do you understand why I am doing this, Lucius? Has this war taught you nothing? I am doing this for every reason you said and even more. This is where I belong, at least…for this battle, for this time. I am fighting for my blood- for my son's sakes…for all of our sons. I can't continue this war as you would want me to Lucius, and I hope one day you'll understand why."

"No…" Lucius whispered, betrayed. He tore away from Snape and repeated himself, shaking his head and struggling to understand. "No! I betrayed my brother for you, Severus…because I believed in you. I let you kill my brother and now you betray me? You betray all of us that would have followed you to our death and why? Why, my Prince, why! If nothing else, you can answer me this!"

Snape closed his eyes, and bowed his head. How could he explain this all to Lucius and make it understandable? Could he make the world anew and show Lucius all the joys and sorrows and trials and tests he had gone through to understand now- in what could be the twilight of his life- why he would be compelled to chose his past as his battlefield?

Truth is, he couldn't. Lucius' loses had been so complete that they had harden his heart to anything outside of revenge and hate for the Aurors, and everyone else he thought had taken his love ones from him. People like him and his brother Silas would never understand the true cost of sacrifice because they never accepted their role in it. For them, they would always be the victim, always the wronged.

"Because it's time." He said simply, and hoped Lucius would understand one day.

Lucius frowned and shook his again. Then, inhaling and coming to his senses, the last, 'true' Malfoy rose his head and stared coldly at his former Prince. "Let us all be wise enough to accept our time when it's comes then."

"Would you have this be my time?"

"No." He said, plainly. "Tonight belongs to Saint Michael."

Snape looked up, startled. "What do you mean, Lucius?" He took a step forward, tensing his voice. "What do you mean!"

"Mordred has ordered her death." Lucius said, watching Severus' face twist into disbelief before the Auror swept pass him with thoughts of salvation and redemption. Lucius sneered. "Tell me, Prince, will all your hope and beautiful dreams be enough to conquer even death?"


	16. Cry Havoc

Unedited, expect better later. Read and review!

Chapter Sixteen: Cry Havoc

Lucius Malfoy was staring deep into the mural like something in the broken paint patterns would give him some insight into what Severus had meant by his words. Instead of any epiphanies however, all Lucius could see or feel was hate and betrayal. His hands were rolled so tightly into fists at his side they hurt. He wondered how Severus could betray him so completely. All he was asking for was Snape to take his rightful place and damn his soul. Lucius had done it, Silas had. Hell, everyone that wore the snake and skull on their forearms did so because they knew that their cause was beyond themselves. They knew, that even in their deaths, there would be something left behind of them. 

They knew, even if they lost, that someone, somewhere would remember and take up their cause. The purity of their blood would be overpowered perhaps but not forgotten.

As long as there was life, there was hope. Lucius had to believe that.

It he didn't, it would make his brother's death in vain. 

"You got him out of here, good boy. What did you tell him?" 

Lucius cringed at the sound of Mordred's cocky voice. He turned and saw the Black Prince walking to him, with his hand around a large bottle of scotch in his right hand, in his left Mordred was playing with something shiny and silver. The Prince was dressed in black pants and a black muscle shirt that showed off his arms and their purple tribal tattoo, unlike Lucius own tailored black garb. This upset Malfoy even more, knowing Mordred felt himself above his own subjects and because of that- he felt no need to hide his face behind a mask. Reaching into his coat, Lucius pulled his own and looked back at the mural as he slid the mask on. "What I told him got him out of Hecate like you wanted, that should be enough for you."

Mordred looked up, eyes narrowed.  "Despise me all you want old man, but don't you dare disrespect me. I am your Prince."

"I wouldn't dream of it. What's your plan?"

"The Dark Lord only needs us to keep the Aurors busy here while he destroys Potter and Dumbledore."  Mordred said, opening the brand new bottle of liquor. He looked up, and studied the walls and memorials to the fallen Aurors for a long time. Gingerly, his fingers played with the object in his other hand- Lucius could see now it was a lighter. Mordred looked at him, smiling briefly before turning towards the mural. He walked towards it and frowned, as if he understood some part of it that was alien to Lucius. "…Blood and destruction shall be so in use…" Mordred began, tucking the lighter into the palm of his hand and drawing his fingers over the dry pain. He was quoting Shakespeare softly under his breath. "…that mothers shall but smile when they behold their infants quartered with the hands of war. All pity choked with custom of fell deeds…"   
            Suddenly, as if the mural angered him, Mordred stepped back and stuffed a piece of cloth into the bottle of the liquor. He was staring angering at his hands, muttering to himself. "All pity choked with custom of fell deeds…and Caesar's spirit, raging for revenge with Ate by his side come hot from hell and cry Havoc!" He lit the corner of the cloth and threw it against the mural. 

The liquor caught fire and spread over the paint quickly as Mordred retreated back and began to kick all the bottles that had been left for the dead. The booze that came spilling out of them mixed with the flames and caused them to spread, casting a devilish glow over Mordred's features. 

"And let slip the dogs of war." He finished, before turning to Lucius. "The others are waiting in the gardens, as the Aurors come to put out the fire…mow them down like cattle. It ends tonight." 

"Where are you going, my Prince?" Lucius asked as they both hurried down the old wooden stairs to avoid the quickly spreading fire. "It won't take long for Severus to discover the attack's already under way."

"I'm counting on that." Mordred said, darkly. "But by the time he figures it out, not only will Voldemort be well on his way to destroying Potter and Dumbledore, but I will have found Imre's key and there will be nothing holding me back from killing Snape." He looked up at Lucius and smiled. "Rejoice brother." He said. "This is a good day to die."

Celia "Sky" Falls pushed the door open to Phoenix Hawke's office and walked inside. The Auror was standing in front of the windows, staring into the vast, unchanging plains that surrounded Hecate Compound and Mage's Weir. From this vantage point, you could see the city in the far left of the window, shining like fireflies in the cool night. Closer to the window were the other buildings of the Compound. The pale, white walls gleamed off the moon like polished bone and her darkened windows gaped out like hallowed eye sockets. It looked surreal and slightly terrifying. 

Sky had always seen Hecate sparkling like diamonds at night. Becka had once taken Sky to her favorite place at Hecate, the roof of the Gray Library. The Library was domed and glassed and positioned right in the center of the Compound with a clear view all around of the buildings, and never was there a prettier sight to behold then Hecate during her beauty sleep. The lights of the dormitories would shine over the cemetery and laughter from young lovers would waft downward into the center from the offices  on the far side. The Kaga would emerge from the beneath them and silk out into the gardens like gray angels and patrol quietly, ethereally over the grounds keeping watch over their charges till morning came again and Hecate returned to the humans.  

But now Hecate was cold, and empty. The school and the dormitories had been shut down and the Kaga shuffled away to Arsan Duolai with the students so the Aurors there could return to Hecate to guard her now. The windows were boarded over, and every unnecessary light was extinguished as the Aurors cluttered together in dimly lit offices playing cards or drinking to avoid the sense of unease that was rapidly overtaking the soul. Everything was tight and nervous, and reminded Sky of the photos she had seen of a batten down London during the Blitz. She realized then, that for all her grace and all her serenity- Hecate was still a living, breathing entity that could feel fear just like London had. 

Just like they all did. 

Sky crept closer to Hawke, still not speaking in the hopes he would sense her presence and do her the favor of speaking first. She did not want to break his concentration but felt compelled to be with him now.  To say it was fear would be shaming this need; it was not fear- for if anything, it could be described (and in doing so would only capture one aspect of it) as courage. It was that special breed of courage that only a woman can feel for her man and that would cause her to come to him silently when he needed this strength most. One could also describe it as love but, like calling it courage, this title would limit it as well. Love has been labeled as something that is passionate and strong but also fleeting and driven by some carnal urge that is nowhere near what the true ideal is. The love felt now was that special breed of love that comes in quietness that transcends the foolish, fleeting passion felt by the young and goes rather to the very soul of the other person and fulfills it by soothing every fear. 

Sky couldn't understand it, and in truth didn't feel the need to. Things like that never needed to be understood, only experienced, like faith or hope. So, like that, Sky accepted this desire and touched Hawke's arm. 

Phoenix never looked away from the darkened window. "I remember we use to call Kaiser the Ghost behind his back. It was the way he use to wander around Hecate aimlessly after Jesse died that made us call him that. He had always been so full of life and joy that to see him then was painful. We all use to call him Caesar in the early days, and there was never a man like him before. We were all called Princes of Hecate, but he was the King. There was something he possessed, something he knew that we couldn't. He use to walk like nothing could happen without his say so and we all believed it. 

Then, Jesse died and things just turned cold. It all became cursed. He didn't possess the same spirit that he had before. His eyes were distant, almost scared. He became paranoid, frightened of everything; use to drag around that kid Sydney with him like the boy could predict the future and somehow save him from it. We all knew Kaiser blamed Hecate for Jesse's death but he never said anything aloud. He just kept on because the Aurors was all he knew. 

Things got better when Severus was born. Kaiser was alive again. He had his purpose back. He never wanted Severus to wear an Auror's uniform and worked to make sure he never had too. I've often wondered, had Kaiser lived a little longer, would he have been able to achieve that dream. I've wondered if he had been able to save Snape from the Aurors, would things have been different."

"Aiden, you can't know why things happen…"

"We did this to him." Hawke said simply, turning to Sky and staring into her sightless eyes. "Severus was never meant to become an Auror but we let him, and why? Because we needed our traditions? It wasn't fair. Not to him, and definitely not to Kaiser. There's a magic in it when someone gives his life to ensure something and we defied that. We broke something that shouldn't have been touched. Maybe all that will happen…won't be for good or evil, it'll just be revenge. The revenge of a father for his son."

"Master Hawke?" Hawke and Sky both turned to the door. Peace Cassidy was standing there with wide, uncertain eyes. "Master Hawke, it's Memory."

"What about it?"

"It's burning, sir."

"So it begins." Hawke heard Sky whisper by his side. Inhaling the Phoenix raised his head and nodded. "Very well, inform Grant and Lee to get their teams ready for my arrival and go to investigate. Wands at the ready. Take Mistress Falls to the medic ward and tell them to stand by for casualties."

"Yes sir." Peace whispered. He held out his arm. "Mistress?"

Sky turned and kissed Hawke's cheek. "Come back to me."

"I'll see you up top." He whispered as she left with her arm resting on Peace's shoulder. He felt suddenly very old and very tired but knew he could not falter now. Not when the final judgment was so close to being completed.

His tired, old hands fell to the table as he picked up one of his famous gauntlets. Thick leather imbued with bronze sigils of two birds whose wings spread upwards and out to embrace the whole wrist.  These were the pieces of armor that made him a legend. They had been cast and molded by his mother to ward away almost any spells like a shield would block a spear and in his sixty years of life, they had never failed him. 

But they never seemed so heavy as when he fastened them today. He tightened them and flinched slightly from the pain but took comfort in it. He needed something secure and this would be it. Then, slowly and with the whole of Hecate resting on his shoulders he went to met his fate. 

The wind was playing tricks with Snape's long coat. The Navy duster was flipping around his legs like some mighty dragon's tail, giving Snape a little ego boost he would deny if anyone noticed. His boots were making too much noise on the cobblestone roads to shield his presence, so he drew his wand and continued on the path. 

In his other hand, he kept fiddling with an old ring he had donned after years of it hiding away with the rest of his past in Akel Dama. 

His wedding band from his "marriage" to Dahlia Wyvern.

It was white gold and engraved on the inside with a Bible verse, Psalm 91:11. The verse spoke of Angels protecting you in all things and it had been his lucky charm back during his Auror days. It seemed fitting that he should wear it again now especially since it was now his turn to save the Angel. Now secretly Snape had been preparing himself for anything and everything that could possibly been waiting for him in Hogsmeade but somehow, when he saw Ari next all those carefully placed mental barriers and strongholds failed.

There was a figure crouching on the ground near her. Ari's eyes were closed as if slumber. Her coat was missing and shirt was torn, revealing the purpled shoulders and a large dark bruise from were the Vampire had drained her to within an inch of her life. She looked already dead.

No, don't think about it… 

She couldn't be dead. He couldn't have failed. 

Don't make a sound… 

Any lesser creature would have already been dead by now, but not Ari.

Don't make a sound… 

Drawing himself up to his full height and prowess, Snape raised his wand to center on the Vampire's chest and prepared himself. He glanced at Ari for a moment, then occurred to him that this was the first time he had not encountered vampires since he killed their clan leader and this one was probably not going to be happy to see him. He also knew, acutely, that he was probably going to this. 

"Hey, Lestat! That belongs to me. Put her down, gently and step away before I have to hurt you." 

            The Vampire jerked his head up and hissed. His sharp piercing blue eyes narrowed in recognition. 

"I know you." It said, still holding close to his prize. "You are the one who killed Daniel."  

"Yeah that's right." Snape returned smugly, then added. "Oh, gee I'm sorry. Was he important to you?" He hated himself for wasting time Ari didn't have but he couldn't appear panicked.  

"It's of no matter now. In truth, I think I should thank you. Because of you, I am in control of the clan and of her. And now, I take her."  

Snape tensed as he watched the vampire draw blood from his wrist and move it closer to Ari's lips. He took a step forward. "Do it, and I'll kill you!"

"Is death all you know?"  The demon taunted. "No wonder she worshipped you. It's no matter now, however. She's already mine."  
            Snape readjusted his grip on his wand. "I killed my own uncle, don't think I'll have qualms about killing you."

"But would you risk missing and hitting her?" 

Erised moved slightly. Beneath her eyelids, the pupils began to flutter as her blue lips trembled. Those gray eyes opened partially, and wandered unfocused through the dark night. Her head lolled to one side, meeting the vampire's eyes. For a split second, Snape swore he saw her smile at him. It was then he noticed the great care the demon used when rousing her from her sleep and, despite himself, Snape felt a swell of anger and jealousy that caused his helplessness to boil over. 

Then, Erised turned and glimpsed Snape. Her lips parted in disbelief as shades of awe colored her face. She seemed to view him as some vision that would accompany her to the afterlife. She stared at him for a long time before straining in a choked whisper two words that changed the world. 

"Bela." She called as the vampire pressed his bleeding wrist to her lips. She seemed to consider drinking for a moment, before pulling away from it and meeting Severus' eyes. 

Snape exhaled a trembling breath, and smiled uneasily. She had given him hope and strength and in that moment had cleared his mind. The heart in his chest began to deep faster, deeper and caused adrenaline to surge through his blood. He adjusted his grip on his wand and steadied himself, assured now in his victory today. 

There was still hope.

The vampire had rose, and stepped back, his face torn into a mask of clear disbelief and hate. He was staring at Erised as if she was some strange creature he no longer understood. He glanced at Snape in wonder before turning back to this figure that laid before him like a slain animal offered up in sacrifice. 

"You would damn yourself to mortality and death because of him?" He asked her. "What? Do you think he'd take you back and forgive you?"

Erised turned away, either unwilling or too week to answer.

"So be it." The demon whispered after a time, he turned hatefully to face Snape. "But he wouldn't want you if he knew. Still, see if he'll have you after all you have done. I will waiting for you when you discover the truth."

The vampire drew back for the last time but in doing so, he slammed his weight on Erised's crippled hand. She screamed in inhumane pain as she scrambled to protect the remains of the member. The terror on Erised's face was palpable as she stared at her disfigurement and then drew her attention to the fingers that lay severed on the ground. 

Severus was beside her by the time she went backwards; ready to catch her as she fell. Craning his head, he turned to meet her weak eyes. "I've got you," He told her. "I'm right here."

Erised was trembling as shock began to set in. She felt painfully light in his arms, and there was a small, bitter smile that overtook her and made her eyes sparkle. "I always wanted to be in your arms again."

In all his years of war and death, it suddenly occurred to Snape that the last time he had cradled a dying person in his arms it had been his Riener. Back then, the death had been a release, a salvation from a dark prison that his uncle had been trapped in and now, finally, was released from. There would be nothing pure and cleansing about Erised's death. This time, death would be final and cold. It would be unwelcome and harsh, like first light to unprepared eyes. It would have no purpose- either in punishment or in healing. It would be pointless and Snape could not accept it. 

He could not lose such a memory to chaos and chance. He controlled this war. He made the nations trembled. He was the Dark Prince, the Miracle Maker, the Morning Star, the one constant figure in this war and he would not allow something he had birthed to overrule his wishes. He could not- would not- lose this one thing when all others had been taken from him. 

He looked down, and stared into the face of this stranger resting his arms. Despite the swell of one, he could see the dark gray of those eyes that had been with him always. From her own ever quiet, ever watching eyes that had followed him from the hidden corners of Hecate Compound, and had looked on him in awe and complete devotion to Eoin's quiet steadiness in the fallen Kaga's wordless accusation that never allowed the Dark Prince to forget his past or the real reason he ruled now and even unto the eyes of Angelo Malone that watched him as a teacher and looked upon him for instruction and guidance. 

Severus had known those eyes despite the different color; despite Angelo's youth he had known them from the first moment- because he had known the family. The Malone family, in one incarnation or another, seemed to look over him like a chorus of guardian angels for his entire life.

He couldn't fail them now. 

            In the distance, Hogwarts gleamed readily like a long desired haven and frantically, Severus made his way to the school. There was no way for him to have known at that distance and in his state of mind, that all he had seen tonight was merely a ruse meant to confuse for a few moments while war began. 


	17. And Let Slip the Dogs of War

Author Note: Kudos to Toby Keith and whoever the hell wrote War and Fortune One. If you haven't heard them, look for them- they kick booty. Anyways, enjoy!

**Chapter Seventeen: Let Slip the Dogs of War**

            Desmond Moody didn't know how long he had been staring at the back of Minister Mallory's head but he was certain of one thing. It wasn't the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He tilted his head, and stifled another yawn that was coming. In his head he could think of about a hundred things more amusing then sitting in the empty Great Hall of Hogwarts waiting for Armageddon to come. One slightly less boring thing would be sitting in the darkened Hecate with other Aurors, there was security in familiarity. He sighed and looked down at the table where his playing cards were spread out before him like a little army. He looked up again, and began to focus all his thoughts at the back of Gideon's head, wondering if his Jedi mind tricks would work on the Auror.

            Gideon Mallory was pacing slowly, thoughtfully through the empty hall. He looked distinctly uncomfortable in his stiff Minister robes and kept tugging on the collar. Desmond's eyes traveled to the man's hands, which were still covered by gloves. He had seen the scarred, deformed wrists before and knew that secretly, Gideon feared this injury would be his undoing. Desmond couldn't accept that. Gideon Mallory was simply not that easy to defeat. Nothing could harm him. 

            Not even the Dark Lord himself.

            Desmond only needed to remind Gideon of this. He reached into his pant pocket and dug until his fingers found the rough texture of a tennis ball. He smiled a childish, naughty smile. "Heads up!"

            Gideon turned and ducked as soon as he saw the bright neon ball come flying at him. The ball bounced off the wall and flew back to Desmond who sprang forward to catch it. Gideon was staring at him, blankly. "Have you gone mad?"

            "No, why? Does it make it more interesting?"

            "Make what more interesting?"

            "This." Desmond chirped as he slammed the ball against the wall again, chuckling as Gideon again ducked for cover. "Wall Ball. Don't tell me you've never played this."

            Gideon was staring at him as if Desmond had just sprouted horns from the back of his head. "No, I can't say I have."

            "It's a very simple game, even your Snake mind should understand it. The ball is round, the wall is flat and the rest is mostly details. I bounce the ball off the wall, and you have to try and catch it before it bounces twice off the floor. If you don't, you have to race to the wall before I pelt you with the ball." Desmond smirked. "Simple right? Let's play."

            And with that, he threw the ball again. It slammed hard against the stone wall sending echoes throughout the hall. Gideon flinched at first from the sound but recovered in time to catch the ball. He looked down at his hand in awe and shook his wrist as if to ensure it wasn't injured. Discovering it wasn't caused him to smirk and toss the ball to the wall, watching Desmond catch it and return it. 

            Desmond smiled as they played for a few minutes in silence before starting in a low, almost silent voice to sing. "A man come on six o'clock news, said somebody's been shot, somebody's been abused. Said somebody blew up a building, someone stole a car; somebody got away, somebody didn't get too far." 

            The smile on Gideon's face was priceless. "Oh they didn't get too far." He looked over and continued. "Oh my granddaddy told my daddy back in my day son, a man had to answer for the wicked he'd done. Grab all the rope in Texas, find tall oak tree, round up all those little bad boys, and hang em high from the tree. For all the people to see." 

            It was Desmond's turn again. "For all the people to see."

            Then in their beautiful off-key voices they half-sang; half-shouted the chorus. "Because justice is the one thing you should always find, you got to saddle up your boys, you got to draw a hard line!  When the gun smoke settles we'll sing a victory tune and we'll all gather around at the local saloon! We'll raise up our glasses against evil forces, singing Whiskey for my men and beer for my Horses!"

            There was a small flare of laughter behind them, causing both men to spin on their heels to the doorway. Amissa was laughing, and clapping her hands together. "You Aurors and your drinking songs." She chided as she walked in. "It's all you can think about." She walked to the table were Desmond had abandoned his cards and sat down. "I know a better song."

            Both men smiled at each other and waiting. The ball was rolling across the large floor abandoned now. Amissa picked up the King of Hearts, called the Suicide King, and smiled. "War, huh. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing!"

            "Say it again, now!" Gideon shouted, laughing. "War, huh! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing."

            Desmond began to clap his hands to the beat as Amissa sang it in a low, guttural voice. Gideon was dancing slowly, moving his arms close to the body and attempt to sway like if he had rhythm. This continued in one incarnation or another with the songs varying from the patriotic and classic "soldier" songs to the fiercest of Anti-War songs. Songs like these were often used to move the spirit and urge the passion to one side of the cause or another but Desmond, Gideon, and Amissa didn't cared much for passion or sides right now. Night was waning and tensions were high so things like those didn't really matter. They didn't have to be the closest of friends, or even friends for that matter, the only thing that was important to them was at that moment was that life was being enjoyed.  

            Gideon laughed again, as he finished singing Fortunate One. He jumped down from the Ravenclaw table he had used as his stage and took a bow with a deep flourish.  Desmond laughed and favored him with a standing ovation while Amissa just sat watching him with eyes that echoed both great joy and great sorrow. Mallory saw this and walked over, collapsing into the seat beside her. 

            "So," He mused. "Why aren't you asleep, Professor Moon. You got classes tomorrow."

            "I couldn't sleep. What about you? Why are you and Desmond the only ones up? With all the Navies that Hawke sent over here, I thought you'd guys would be running all around this place." 

"Since we don't know when the Dark Lord is going to attack," Gideon answered, "I didn't think it wise to have all my boys up at one time and getting fatigued. I set up sentries all around the grounds, in case they decide to show up. Six are on the ground, mostly around the Forest, with me and Desmond inside." He looked at her. "You'd be surprise how huge this place is."

"Really? This place is a lot smaller then I remember it, but a lot more lonely." 

            "Lonely?" Desmond laughed. "From what Sean A's been saying, you're romancing the DADA professor."

            "Lupin?" Gideon winced. "Oh Amissa, I always hoped that taste for Gryffindor flesh was just some awkward teen phase."

            "Oh shut up, Gideon, don't make me start on about your love interest."

            "There is and will always be only Chandra, thank you kindly."

            "Which is why you married Clara right?"

            "I was making sure Chandra was the one. Besides, it's not like I left Chandra while I was married to Clara or anything."

            "You and your brothers are exactly the same, you know that."

            "At least we don't like lions!" Gideon snapped back. He turned to Desmond. "What does Sean say about Lupe and Missy here?"

            "Well, he said during his watch once he saw those two making out in front of Amissa's room and her practically force him inside."

            "Meow."

            "I didn't force him! And what is Sean doing spying on me?"

            "He wasn't. He was patrolling."

            "You forget my sister was a Kaga. She used that patrol excuse all the time. It's spying."

            "May I continue?"

            "NO!"

            "Don't listen to her, Des. Go on."

            "Finish and die, Desi."

            "Hmm," Desmond paused to consider his options. Flashing a beautiful smile, he turned to Gideon. "Anyways, Sean says they've been cuddling and stealing kisses in dark corners ever since."

            "But no more bedroom romps?"

            "No." Amissa said quickly. She looked smugly at Gideon. "Remus, unlike you, is a gentleman and wants to take his time and let the relationship proceed slowly."

            Gideon looked unfazed by the insult. "Must be driving you nuts." He said, smartly.

            "Oh you have no idea." She whined. She stuck out her tongue at him playfully and shrugged. "So, anyways, tell me what's been going on at Hecate?"

            "Well, Hawke and Sky are still trying to have a baby but still no luck. Your daughter Lexa is currently seeing some bigwig from Holms College."

            "Oh, Lexa's found herself a Potions Master has she? I'm insulted. She hasn't called."

            "Well, I hear it's not a he."

            "WHAT?"

            "Armsmen?"

            Both men snapped their heads to the doorway, and Gideon went so far as to stand when he saw Dumbledore. Amissa recoiled from view, as if she knew Albus was bringing some news that she knew would be unwelcome and despised. Dumbledore met her eyes first, before speaking. "Gideon, Desmond, I think you better come with me."

            "Is something wrong?"

            "Amissa, this concerns you as well." The Headmaster said, turning. "Please, go get your Runes and meet me in the infirmary."

            Amissa stood as if she wanted to ask something but so many years as a Hecate medic had told her when someone uses the tone of voice Albus did, it was best not to ask questions and just follow orders. Gideon and Desmond exchanged curious glances before following Dumbledore. The infirmary was barely lit when they entered. They saw Poppy moving hurriedly back and forth between the bed on the opposite side of the room, kept well away from the door and her office where she kept the majority of her potions. Near the bed, they could make out the hunched over figure of a man who was holding the hand of the patient on the bed. 

            Gideon recognized the man first. "You shouldn't be here, Alex. Not with all that's about to happen. You shouldn't be here."

            "I'm sorry." Snape looked up, startled. He sounded like a chastised child. "She was attacked…I had to come."

            "Gideon, that's Becka Stallens. What was she doing out here?" Desmond murmured, stepping back from the bed, repulsed. "Who did this? What did they do to her?"

            Snape turned his attention back to the woman, caressing her maimed hand tenderly. He tilted his head, and brought it to his lips. "Something they'll regret."

            The woman had been squirming on the bed, caught in delirium that showed no sign of release her. She was muttering in low, feverish tones in languages Gideon and Desmond could not understand- sometime Turkish, sometime Gaelic, and others in mixtures of Germanic or Arabic languages. Occasionally, her whole body would seize up from fear as she tried to scream but found no strength too. 

            "Don't let go of my hand, Angel." Snape looked as if he would have taken if every injury she had onto himself if he could. "Don't leave me."

            Her eyes parted as she turned, her hazy eyes shifting focus. She moved her fingers slightly in his and smiled. "Still afraid of being alone, Beauty? You shouldn't be."

            "I'm not afraid of being alone. I'm afraid of death."

            "Can I tell you a secret?" She laughed and when she did so Jack the Ripper's scar on her neck shook. "Me too."

            "And here I thought you weren't afraid of anything." Snape watched as Poppy came nearer with bandages. She was working on Ari's torso and the look of growing desperation birthed a creeping fear in the pit of his stomach. She glanced up at him and shook her head grimly. 

            Ari was looking at Gideon and Desmond's faces enviously. She seemed to read her fate in their eyes. Swallowing, she turned back to Snape. "Do you believe in God, Bela?"

"What?"

"In God. If I die, say a prayer for me. Maybe that way He'll forgive me, maybe you can forgive me too…"

            "What are you talking about?" He said, looking at her.

            "I need to know someone forgives me." She turned her head, eyes closing in slumber.

            Snape shook her shoulders. "Erised? Don't…don't leave me. Not yet. Don't you do this to me!"

            Desmond turned as the door opened. "Amissa!"

            Amissa was walking towards them, only to stop dead when she saw her supposed patient. Her eyes widen in shock before turning cold as memory and bitterness replaced the most basic of love and devotion. Dumbledore was searching her face for some glimmer of forgiveness and saw none. It was not yet time for that.  Forgiveness and healing would have to wait till death and destruction had come. He knew that grim truth better then anyone.

            Amissa shook her head from her dream and continued to the bed, "Out of my way. I honestly you doubt you care that much about your bed buddy and trust me, she won't even remember your name in the morning."

            "I'm sorry?" Snape said as he rose. 

            "Alexander…I never thought I'd see you again." She said softly, before opening her pouch and letting the Runes fall into her hand. "I'd hug you but right now I better save her."

            "Thank you." He whispered.

            Amissa snorted angrily. "Trust me, if you knew her like I did you wouldn't be thanking me. She doesn't deserve mercy."

            "Then why are you helping her?"

            "Because this isn't mercy. Life is worst for her." She was looking at Ari and slapped her cheek. "Hey, creature! Wake up. That's an order." She had to repeat this a few times before she got a reaction.

            Ari moved her head. "Yes, milady."

            "Stay with me, you old drunk, do you hear me?"

            "Yes ma'am."

            "Good, because this is really going to hurt."

            Gideon walked over and rested his hand on Snape's shoulder. "Come on, you better let Amissa work."

            Snape stood, watching Amissa and Erised as he stepped away. "What happened to them, Gideon? They use to be sisters. They use to love each other. What happened?"

            "Time." Gideon whispered. "What did you think you were coming home to?"

            "Not all this death." He turned, clapping his hand over Gideon's. "I left life and joy behind. I never thought I would return to pain."

            "I'm sorry. We weren't as strong you thought we were." 

            Desmond was studying them. "What happened out there with her?"

            "She was attacked in Hogsmeade, I only saw a Vampire but it didn't make sense." Snape frowned. "He acted like if he cared for her. I can't see he doing something like that to her only to attempt to bring her over."

            "If he was a clan leader then no other Vampire would have touched her either." Gideon said, slowly as he tugged on his gloves. "Albus spoke of the Werewolves and Vampires allying again, under Voldemort. It could have been the wolves or Death Eaters. Maybe they wanted to attack her to scare us."

            "But why would they attack her?" Desmond asked. "Why not you? You're the general of the forces here. And if they wanted to scare us, why would the vampire turn her?"

            "He wasn't trying to scare us." Snape said, turning back and looking hard at Erised. Amissa had begun to cast the Runes, and was chanting in a language that made the windows of the infirmary ice over. Trough his training in the Coven's unnamable magic, he could feel the mood of the room change; grow stronger and charged as Amissa tapped into the deep Magic that was her legacy. She was so deep into her craft now that even her breath began to freeze, and become visible. Ari's body was reacting to magic by slowing down- allowing the Runes battle her delirium and fatigue while her Kaga engineering began to focus on mending the wounds. Snape turned his head to look at Amissa's face. She had tears that were freezing to her pale cheeks.

            So there is still love there, he thought to himself, there is still hope.

            Amissa's hands had found Ari's and she was staring at it, searching with her mind for some spell or incantation that would restore the lost fingers. Turning and staring at Ari's face once more, Amissa put her hand to her cheek and whispered something in Runic to Ari. Then she leaned down and pulled a necklace from around Ari's neck and set it on the table. Snape picked it up and turned it over in his hands. 

            Under the thin coat of frost that he brushed away, he could feel the fight of an Angel, poised to destroy the Devil who was underfoot. Snape closed his eyes. "It wasn't about fear."

            "What do you know, Alex?" Gideon asked. "Why was she attacked?"

             "It was about silence." Snape said. "She's St. Michael. Lucius told me Mordred had ordered her death… The Vampires and Werewolves were acting on his orders. They wanted to make sure St. Michael didn't tell us…"

            "Tell us what?"

            Snape's hand became a fist, as he thought back to Memory. He had never occurred to him why Lucius was there in an attempt to make him retake the throne. Lucius' desperation made sense now but only if he linked them to the Vampire's words, and Ari's attack. There was a fear that had been growing in Severus' stomach since he had seen Ari, a sort of spent desperation as he tried to gaze into a smoky glass and clearly see the other side. "It's happening…the Dark Lord, the Prince…they're attacking."           

            "What?" Desmond shouted.

            "Are you certain?" Gideon said.

            Snape met their eyes. "I have to get home!" Snape said, helplessly before rushing into Poppy's office to find a fireplace.

Gideon was two seconds after him in reaction. He spun on his heels. "Desmond! Wake up the others! Have them gear up, and send Red and Blue platoon out in sweeps of Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest."

"Yes, sir!"

Gideon made his way to the doors, before pausing short. He could feel Dumbledore and Poppy's eyes burning holes into the back of his skull. Dumbledore was a better wizard then he could ever hope to be, let Albus was looking to him for guidance because Gideon was the Auror and that made him a hero. He inhaled. "Headmaster, I think you better wake your teachers and have them take the children into the Great Hall."

"Right away, Minister." Dumbledore said, walking forward and resting a hand on Gideon's shoulder. "You'll get through this." He whispered assuredly. 

Gideon forced up a smile. "I'll see you up top."

Severus Snape was vaguely aware of entering the office before being thrown to the floor by an explosion. He rose to his haunches, pressing his back against the wall and craning his head to see outside. From this distance, he could see the large, overwhelming blaze of one of the older buildings and hear the shouts as Auror called to Auror to regroup or engage. He could see the Death Eater masks glint under the raising moon and cringe as someone near the window cried out in death. 

The war had indeed begun. 

Snape shrugged out of his coat and felt his hand catch on his cuff.  He made a fist and pulled, hearing the coat rip as he freed himself. He stared at the necklace in his hand before slipping it over his neck and kissing the pendent, letting it fall over his shirt. Then, he pulled his wand and left the office room, making his way down the abandoned hall. He stopped just shy of entering the plaza. 

Inhaling, he glanced up for a split second and muttered, "You see? I believe in you, you better not screw me over." 

            That said, he threw himself into the battle.


	18. Wormwood

Author's Note: Admittedly, I had too much fun with the end of this chapter but hey. I played a game of how many sci-fi shows can I allude to in one dialogue and I'm proud. Creepy dialogue, dark foreshadowing and Severus flirting, what else could you want on apocalypse? Semi-unedited. Read and Review.

**Chapter Eighteen: Wormwood**

            For a long time the only light visible was the small, prefect circle of Ezra's lit cigarette.  This deep into the Forest only spiders and demons lurked and that's exactly what was there tonight. He looked beside him to the image of Narcissa Malfoy. Tilting his head ever so slightly, he watched her as she fumbled with the buttons of her coat. Smiling, he put his cigarette between his lips and walked over, shooing her hands away and doing her buttons up. 

            Narcissa inhaled sharply at Ezra's touch, tensing against him and watching him. 

            "I won't be the monster I was with your husband with you, milady." Ezra mused. 

            "But you acknowledge you were one."

            "Of course. Silas had that affect on people. He could turn even the calmest human into something base and demonic."

            "Are you saying he tricked you then?" She tilted her head. "That all your sins were his fault."

            "And why would I feel the need to do that?" Ezra asked, leaving the last button undone to expose Narcissa's pale chest. He smiled as he studied the curve of her breast for a long moment before looking back to her face. "I am what I am because I chose it. That is the one power we all have no matter what. The right to become anything we want to become. I am a monster because I want to be one. I can destroy as easily as I can create. I kill, hunt, maim and rape sometimes just for laughs I dare others to do something about it. Silas was the same way, except he failed to realize that monsters, even the most powerful and terrifying of us, could still die. If you believe in God, that's His reckoning, His way of making sure none of us became what He feared most."

            "What's that?"

            "Then the Lord God said, 'Behold, the man has become like one of Us, to know good and evil. And now, lest he put out his hand and take also of the tree of life, and live forever…'"

            Narcissa's eyes widen. "No, you can't mean..."

            "Scary thought, ain't it?" Ezra said, turning his attention to the Lord Voldemort turn and walk away from an elderly man leaning on a cane. "Seeing Gods created."

            Imre Macardit lifted his head and closed his eyes. If he tried, he could hear a voice on the air, murmuring so quietly but steadily that it could be mistaken as singing. He knew this song by heart now, having heard it many times before. It was an old, ancient song- one that had been around as long as the first imaginings of life had. It was wordless, tuneless but strong in its age. Within its being was the secrets of everyone who had lived and died and anyone would met that fate. It was Godhood, obtained and embodied and even though Imre could not yet understand fully the song. He knew it would come in time.

            For tonight, he would retrieve Samedi. 

            Imre laughed at himself. Samedi. Azrael. Thanatos. Ah Puch. Erra. Tia. Imana. All these titles had been used to describe it over the centuries and he knew more names would be created to control after these had turned to dust and past beyond use or memory. None of these were its true name and Imre doubted if it ever had one at all. To name something was to control it, and Imre knew it was impossible to control this. He had spent what seemed like an eternity searching for a way to capture and contain this, and then, secure in his knowledge, he had gone looking for it.

And now he was so close to having it tangible and in his possession to do with whatever he liked, even unto obtaining godhood through it. Imre had seen much in his life- had seen the hearts of pure and evil men, seen kingdoms rise and fall, and languages and wisdoms discovered and lost but he had never, _ever_ come as close as he was now to controlling it.

By dusk tomorrow it would be his. In his excitement, Imre began to tremble in doubt. He still wondered if he could control what no man was supposed to control. He wasn't sure he even understood it. And of course, for it was impossible for humans to understand it fully. He allowed himself a begrudged smile. As fate would have it, it wasn't a human that had found it. 

It was the Creature, Saint Michael.

"Master?" Spoke a soft voice behind him. A voice that had touched it far more intimately then Imre ever had. "It's time I go, Master. Mordred has given the signal to move, and Voldemort will be sending the Dementors in soon. I should go."

"Go then, daemon." Imre whispered. "And in this do not fail me."

The dead thing bowed and turned away, Apparating as he left. Imre smiled tightly and turned back to where the rest of the dark army had congregating. The air began to turn icy and stale around him as slow, cloaked figure glided pass him.

Dementors.

The one nearest to Imre turned and tilted its cowl as if it recognized him. Bowing momentarily, the Dementor then continued on its way to Hogwarts, passing through air and tree as if it was not there at all.

And Imre smiled.

            Hawke gritted his teeth and crouched down as another volley of debris showered down on him. His eyes were burning and almost useless because of the smoke and particles that filled the air. Leave it to the night to add winds and theatrics to this night, Hawke thought grimly. Fates, gods or whatever ruled the fates men had a knack for putting on a show and staging everything perfectly. There was another loud explosion that shook the building this time.

"I really wished they'd stop doing that." He muttered. "That one was too close."

"Come now, if they do this story would be over by now." 

Hawke spun around and glared. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Saving Angels." Snape answered simply. He looked around and shuttered. "Do I want to ask what I've missed here?"

"War."  

"Snape, this is Charlemagne. Charlemagne, Snape." Hawke looked at him, then across the table to the tall commanding figure of Master of Arms Sind Charlemagne. Olive skin tanned by the sun seemed in perfect union with the navy of her uniform. She was beautifully built that much was clear, even under her uniform she held both her grace and her strength on display. Sind's black hair was coming loose from a hastily made ponytail and fell over her dark brown eyes and grim expression. She looked up and sharply, straight into Snape's eyes.  

"With all the hoopla surrounding you, I thought you'd be taller." She said simply. 

Snape cocked his head and smirked. "I'm sorry, and you are?"

Charlemagne smiled at him, eyes running over his body before settling again on his eyes. "I'm one of the Generals here."

"There's nothing like a woman you have to salute in the morning."

"Should I call the Black Prince and tell him to give you two some time to finish flirting?" Hawke asked pointedly. 

Charlemagne looked caught and nodded. "Continue I'm sorry, Phoenix."

 "Nox and Hesper are reporting heavy casualties from immediately around Memory. The Death Eaters have snipers posted somewhere between the routes going towards them so I can't send in aide. They're knocking out anyone who tries to get to them."

"Can't we Apparate?"

"No, we think they've set up Charm around the perimeter to keep us in and help out." 

"How'd you get here, Snape?"

"Through the floo."

"They must have someone watching them from the outside then." Hawke said. "We've been trying to get our injured out via the fireplaces for hours now."

Snape looked up. "You mean I was let in?"

"Probably. Looks like the Prince wanted you here for the fun."

"Gee, that fills me with warm fuzzies."

Another loud explosion threw Hawke and Charlemagne into the table, and left Snape scrabbling for air. Hawke was the first to recover. "Merlin! I wished they stop doing that!"

Sind looked around. "Phoenix, get everyone outside. If they keep blowing the buildings we're all going to die. You and Snape here get Cassidy and the auxiliaries working close to the Dormitories. We need to set up some kind of base of operations. I'll get to working on that and finding any other generals still alive."

"What about Memory?" Snape looked up. "I left Lexa over there, I have to find her!"

"Forget about it!" Sind said. "Memory is burning. Death Eaters are all over it! There's no one alive over there."

"I won't leave her!"

Sind gritted her teeth and looked at Hawke. "Control your Auror, Master."

"Alex, I'll take you to the Gray Library in and then you're on your own. Let's go." Hawke said, pulling up both his wands and moving towards the door.

Snape just smiled at Charlemagne's disbelieving face. "That none perish, milady!"

Hawke glanced at him from the corner of his eye as they walked outside. Admittedly Snape was not use to being on this side of the conflict, and was less accustomed to the idea that he was on the losing side and he had no personal ability to change that. After all, he had not had this sense of helplessness since he was an Auror.

Snape smiled again. He was an Auror again. "I don't suppose you have a clue about how we're suppose to get pass no man's land?"

Hawke looked over, and blinked. "What? We're the good guys and the main characters- of course we're going to go in and win. Evil can't win."

"Spock, I've found that evil usually triumphs, unless good is very, very careful." 

Hawke glanced over and frowned. "…Spock?"

"Ari was a fan of Star Trek. I'm more of a Galaxy Quest fan myself." 

"By Grabthar's Hammer, by the Suns of…"

 "Don't do that. I'm serious." Snape waved a stern finger, but quickly noticed it was not his finger that had silenced Hawke. Snape frowned at the look of disbelief on Hawke's face and followed it to the courtyard. 

Amidst the chaos and smoke, one figure was walking calmly towards them as if none of the hell surrounding them all existed. The Death Eater was wearing his hood drawn around the face, with the cloak flicking in the wind like a dragon's tail. Snape could make out the man's slender wand in his right, and barely see the features peering through the rim of the hood. Snape's fingers found the necklace he wore again, and tickled the Angel as if to remind him about their deal.

"Go," Hawke whispered, pocketing one of his wands and readying himself for battle. "I'll handle this."

"I'll take the long way." Snape said, before moving away from his superior officer. "Don't lose, Hawke, it'll look bad on your family. That none perish, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you don't perish, ok?"

"You won't lose me, I swear."

"I hope so." Hawke mused. "I'll see you up top!"

The figure had arrived to within three feet of him and now, gingerly, reached up and pulled back his hood. The face that greeted Hawke was handsome and young, with a slender regal appearance set against violent wine color eyes that glimmered with mirth and power. The man when he spoke sounded incredibly young. "Do you know who I am?" 

"Should I?"

"I am the Black Prince, and your untimely demise."

"You know, I'm not big for pomp and circumstance so why don't we just do this?"

"I agree." Mordred smiled and paused only for a second. "Crucio!"


	19. From Valor and Duty

Here they come, over and done for. Enjoy and forgive the massive unedit-ness. It will get better.

**Chapter Nineteen: From Valor and Duty**

"Expecto Patronum!"

Harry Potter stopped mid-stride and turned to stare out the window as silver sparks filled the air and began to form the image of bear that fell into a charge straight towards the Forbidden Forest. He ignored Professor Vector and the other teachers as they ushered the kids into the Great Hall and walked to the window. It was still dark, although in the distance the beginnings of morning was peering over the canopy like dark blood, clouding the stars and making the shadows play tricks.

But those weren't shadows that were moving.

Slow, and gray like the very night was swaying in the breeze came figures staggering towards the castle; their cowled heads rocking back and forth to the steady beat of Harry's heart. At this distance, Dementor magic would affect him but memory did. He thought he felt the air to ice around him, pricking at his skin and his birthing a deep unease somewhere under his heart. He started to shake uncontrollably as he staggered back from the window. His vision began to cloud as he felt himself falling backwards.

And then next thing he was aware of hazel brown eyes staring into his. Angelo Malone pushed Harry back to his feet and ran a hand over his robe, soothing the wrinkles down and looking over Harry before settling back on his face. "You above all people shouldn't be lingering here, Potter."

"What's happening, Angie?"

"The war, and your part have not yet come."

Gideon Mallory's voice cut off whatever reply Harry had. "Harry? Angelo? Go on guys, into the Great Hall. I have enough problems without losing two of Dumbledore's kids. He'll never forgive me."

"Mallory!" Shouted a voice from the far end of the hall. It was a young looking man who had shrugged on his navy uniform to quickly to give off the neat, streamlined appearance the Aurors were famous for. He ran a hand through his straw colored hair and struggled to catch his breath. "Desmond said Red platoon's line is broken. We need to call Arsan for reinforcements!"

"What about Hecate?"

"There's no contact with the Compound. No one can even Apprate over there."

Gideon cursed under his breath and turned to follow the younger Auror. "Angelo, take him to the Great Hall and stay there!"

"Yes sir." Angelo muttered as he took hold of Harry's arm.

They waited till Gideon had disappeared from sight before exchanging glances. Harry grabbed Angelo's arm and pulled him to follow. "Come on, I know an other way out."

"Is this wise?"

"No, but let's do it anyways." Harry pulled out his wand, waited for Angelo to follow suit before turning the corner and racing down the hall.

"Prince?" The voice called, quietly over the din of battle. Snape readjusted the grip on his wand and turned slowly, unaware of what exactly to expect. There was a long uneasy silence before it continued. "Are you alone?"

            Snape frowned in recognition. "Choice?"

            Choice was walking to him slowly, his cobalt blue eyes staring at him wearily through the blond strands that fell over his face and made him seem older somehow, weaker. He pushed his hands out from under the sleeves of his gray cloak to pull the hood from his face and Snape could see where he had been crying. Against his will, Snape took a step away from him, waiting. 

            "Of all the people I have sinned, I fear it is you I have wronged most, father." Choice said, slowly. "But please understand it was not my intent, nor was it ever my wish to wrong you…it just happened, like most of the greatest sins happen in war, purely by chance. Kaiya was my world, father, you have to understand that. She might have been your redemption but she was my life. Do you know what it's like to lose that? Yes, I suppose you do…" He frowned as if some memory haunted him suddenly. He licked his lips, and shook his head slowly, pulling his wand and motioning helplessly. "But, I'm not as strong as you father, I'm not willing to say goodbye."

            "Don't call me father." Snape whispered quietly. By now he had aimed his wand at Choice and was searching for the strength that Choice spoke of. One curse, two words, was all that was needed. He didn't know what sins Choice was talking about, but he knew the tone. That voice was no longer the boy Snape had loved as a son, no longer the ally he had fought with. It was just a shell of the warrior who had lost his cause, and now fought mainly to stop feeling the pain of disillusionment. "Just turn around and walk away, Choice. I never saw you. Just go." He swallowed to keep his voice from breaking. "Please Choice, just run."

"There's no where to run to, Severus. There's already blood on my hands- both Jackie's and now Erised's…"

"Jacqueline?" Severus almost stumbled. He felt weak suddenly, painfully weak. He wanted to fall and mourn but knew he could not.

Before the night was over, there would be more to keep Jackie company.

"Don't worry, Dark Prince…" Called another voice, one easier to fight against. Snape turned and watched Radella jerk the hair away from her face. "We're not going to kill you. That's Mordred's job. We'll just here to have some fun."

Severus never heard the curse that hit him, Choice merely drew it on the air and released it, and it sent Snape flying a meter. Snape hissed as he heard something break in  the general area of his ribcage and knew it was probably not a good thing. He grunted and jumped to feet. "Okay, fun it is. Incedio!"

From a safe distance, Imre's slave stopped and lingered long enough to see Choice repel Snape's curse and send another in turn. Snape sidestepped it to avoid the curse, scanning the area for cover and the safest place to hold his ground. Such rudimentary Auror skills, the slave thought it was funny, and was half tempted to join the battle to teach Snape a lesson in true Auror combat. But then again,  Severus had never been a willing student when it came to combat and martial arts. He thought his name made him king and that was enough. The slave had known better. He had earned his title as Hecate Prince, earned it by his blood and his sweat.

And frown came to the slave's worn features as the scene brought memory back and made him remember.

He remembered…

The man pulled back from the scene, frowning against images he knew, loved but did not recall- not fully. It was like reading a story and knowing each character by heart, like a thinly veiled deja vu of another time he could not fit together.

And somewhere deep within him, in the place his soul once was, it began to ache.

But these were things he did not understand and Imre would not explain so he would trust his Master and continue. He had his errand to finish.

It was sometime between the broken nose and the bruised wrist that Remus decided he wasn't a soldier. They were too clam, too control to be truly strong and powerful. They followed a protocol, a code that was an attempt to make everything understood and controlled. Death and warfare was not so clean cut, not so understandable. It was simply what it was, and those who truly acknowledged its beauty understood that. Ezra had taught him that. He had taught Remus that he was not a soldier.

He was hunter.

Remus rose to his full height and howled in pain, rolling his back and flexing his jaw to regain his focus. Leaning forward, he flexed his fingers holding them poised like claws, and secretly he wished it were a full moon overhead. This would be a lot more fun with fur. He turned quietly and clenched his teeth together, allowing a deep, thick growl to come slowly as he turned his head.

It was through the sweat, and bloodlust that he smelled his pack leader. Remus howled again, struggling to remain calm despite eagerness of battle. He was panting hard.

And then he heard it, behind him. It was so small, he almost missed it over the screams of the dying, the Auror battle cries or the howls of the other wolves. The sound was quite literally a twig snapping underfoot as someone tried to sneak up on him. He waited two seconds longer, before swinging about and seizing at the neck of the oncoming attacker.

"Professor Lupin!"

Remus blinked and looked his the victim. Angelo Malone writhed in Remus' arms, clutching at the hands to free his throat. He released the boy and stood back, aghast. "Angie? What the hell are you doing here?"

Angelo was rubbing his throat and jerked his head at Harry, unready to talk just yet. Harry shrugged. "I thought we could help."

"I almost killed you! Get back inside, with the others where you belong."

"With all due respect, sir. You should be inside with the civilians as well." Angelo whispered, "And if anyone needs to be out here, it is Harry Potter. I mean, he is the reason behind this mess after all."

Remus bit his lip, looking at Harry sternly. "Sirius won't be happy about this."

"Neither will Professor Moon from what I hear." Angelo quipped.

"And how do you know about me and Amissa?"

"Oh so it's Amissa now…" Harry said, grinning. "Good job, she's hot!"

Before Remus could reply a "Crucio!" was shouted, and it was Angelo who reacted first. He jumped forward, pushing Harry down and getting hit in the back by the hex. Angelo screamed as he fell forward.  Remus was on his knees beside him a moment later.

Peter Pettigrew withdrew his wand, quickly once he saw Remus and Harry. It took two seconds between Peter's revelation and his inevitable fleeing for Harry to take off after him. Remus cursed under his breath and moved to follow.

Angelo reached out and grabbed his hand. "No sir, don't leave me!"

Remus exhaled and squeezed. "You'll be okay, Angie. Hold on." He turned his head, looking for the nearest Auror. "Desmond! We need a medic over here!"

Desmond looked over and shook his head. "If you can talk, you'll have to wait, the medics are undermanned!"

"I have a kid over here!"

"What the hell are they…" Desmond sighed and nodded, "I'll get help, hold on!" He turned, "Gideon, I'm heading inside, cover me!"

Gideon turned and nodded tersely. His silver Patronus (dragon shaped) was repelling Dementors in short order but he was visibly tiring.  The Dementors seemed to have centered on him, descending on him like a swam of bees. The dragon was beginning to flicker as fatigue overcame him, but still he fought. Desmond gritted his teeth and took a step forward.

"Desmond, if you come any fucking nearer, I'll AK you myself!" Gideon shouted. "Get help for Remus now!"

"I can't leave you!"

"That's an order!" Gideon turned and smiled. "I'll see you up top, kid!" He turned back just as a Dementor broke through his dragon and flung him across the field. "Is that the best you can do? I'm Gideon Draco Malfoy, God himself can't kill me!" He rolled over and threw the Dementor back. "Now, come, let's try again…"


	20. To Sacrifice and Lost

**Chapter Twenty: To sacrifice and lost**

Amissa Moon was staring at the window from the infirmary with pain that only one who had spent her entire life ensuring life and health could. She had a look of quiet horror craved into her pale features that merged with the lingering chill of her ancient craft. In her eyes was the sum of all the futility, all the pain and horrors that people had dared covered in words like valor, duty and courage. Great as those virtues may be, in the end, they were still only words. Words that had caused too many people their lives and she had long since stopped believing in. She stood there, frozen in her place, unable to tear her away from the madness but wishing with ever fiber of her being the strength to walk away.

"…Secret."   
            Amissa turned to regard her patient. The Runes coupled with Ari's natural Kaga immunity had taken her out of immediate danger but she was still critical. She shouldn't even be conscience, let alone able to speak. Amissa doubted that Ari even knew what she was saying.

"You should be resting, Erised." Amissa whispered sternly as she walked to her side. "Everything is fine."

Erised's eyes flickered to the window, with a similar look of helplessness that on the surface seemed to mirror Amissa's but she knew better. Ari's distress came from the most fundamental aspect of Ari's personality. She was Kaga, under all the sins and booze and disorder and darkness- she was Kaga, like all Malone were and she longed to protect and fight for their adopted cause.

Amissa fought down the swell of hate she felt from that. She had hated Ari for a long time because of her undying devotion to duty- from the fact Sydney had had that same devotion, and that Ari hadn't been strong enough to save him. Amissa cursed herself because of this truth but she could not suppress it. She couldn't understand why things were so cruel and unforgiving as they were. She hated that some would live and some would die tonight and there were no rules to ensure her love ones made it.

Amissa jumped as she felt something touch her hand. She looked down and stared at the disfigured hand that was clinging to hers. Ari's thumb was stroking her palm, her tired gray eyes studying Amissa, searching for some way to comfort her Mistress even though she had never been able to. The feud between them had lost its purpose now it seemed. Amissa flinched from this revelation.

Ari had lost things in this war, and it wasn't only scars and lost fingers. Hers had been a terrible price, not only loved ones had been lost but even her own soul, if she had one.

But still she fought, even if she did so for no other reason then that's all she knew.

"Secret…" Ari began again. She strained to speak and for the first time in a long time compassion struck at Amissa's heart for her sister. Ari opened her mouth again and took a break. "Find the secret…"

"What secret?" Amissa frowned, getting that wary gut feeling again. "What secret, Ari?"

"If I can't," Ari began, and moved to reach for her neck, feeling for her necklace. She frowned suddenly as if terrified to have lost it. She began to turn her head searching for it.

Amissa looked to the table where she had put it, and remembered. "Severus took it, Ari."

"Severus? Where?"

"In the battle, at Hecate." Amissa saw the fear in Ari's eyes and knew how to comfort it. "He'll be okay, Erised. He'll survive and come back."

Ari looked very weak against the pillow suddenly and Amissa knew why. There had been one thing constant and as true in Ari's life as her duty and that was her love for Severus. It was deep and fierce, and as strong as the ocean. Even Erised hadn't understood the bond but had gone through each ebb and flow of this desire for a man that could not be hers with the same faith she had gone through her battles with. She had to believe that the bond she held to Severus, whatever it was unbreakable and therefore her strength.

But that didn't stop the basic and most profound need that a woman has for her man- the assurance that even though they're not there, he'll be okay.

"Promise me?" She whispered to Amissa, with naïve, trusting eyes.

Amissa wiped something from her eyes as revelations led to understanding. The self-imposed twenty-year hell Ari had put herself through was finally losing its sway. In her near death state, Erised would finally allow herself to feel what she had denied for so long. If only for a moment…

Amissa gripped her hand. "I swear."

"Alex holds the secret." Ari said, tapping her neck where her necklace should have been. "If I can't…protect it. Alex can find it. He's the Keeper…"

"Amissa," Albus Dumbledore's voice echoed through the empty infirmary. "The battle outside has is not going well. They need medics. I'll watch after your patient."

Ari gripped her hand once more. "Remember." She released Amissa's hand and rolled her head to one side. Wordlessly, her eyes closed, her breathing stilled and she was gone.

Amissa inhaled uneasily. She turned to Albus, "I hate it when she does that. All Kaga do that…it's rather annoying. Their whole bodies shut down like a state of death."

"I know, she was once my Companion, remember?" He said, as he walked over and sat down besides Ari. "She's safe with me."

Amissa watched as he brushed Ari's cheek, gingerly. "You care for her, don't you?"

"As much as my own blood." He said simply. "I trust her with my life." 

"So did I." Amissa said as she walked away. "Once."

Phoenix Hawke fell to his knees but didn't scream.  He was biting his lip so hard that it drew blood but he didn't scream. There was no pain worthy of such a reaction. Instead, his body ached from dull pain that began somewhere in his back and spread to the very tips of his fingers. He was aware of the sweat on his face, and the burning that the salt caused when it touched open wounds. His jaw ached from the after effects of Mordred's close quarter punch and despite the vertigo it would cause; he shook his head doggedly to quell the ringing of his ears.

"You know none of this is real." Mordred was saying as he paced around Hawke like a jackal. "This is all some dream. It is the great, epic way all men wish to die to become the heroes of storybooks and legends…you should be thankful, Auror. How many heroes meet such a fitting end."

Hawke looked up and regarded him but wasn't really paying attention to his words. Instead, he was watching the face, the strong eyes and assured walk that seemed to make the world look and notice this child prince. He was noticing the charisma that wrapped around Mordred like a cloak. He was noticing the history that walked with Mordred that shielded him and raised him on a dais to be Royalty without ever earning that title.

And right before Hawke's eyes, Mordred began to change- maybe it was the haze, or true magic, Hawke couldn't tell but there was a transformation. Mordred's face became older, wiser and sadder.

And Kaiser stood where his grandson had.

Kaiser walked towards him slowly, leisurely with no malcontent or ire towards him but rather just a soft confusion. He tilted his head to one side, as if he had never seen anything like Hawke before and was trying to understand it. He looked away briefly, only to study the chaos surrounding them with the same confused look. He must have been wondering how could it come to such an end. He must have wondering what had had happened to bring such a dire end. What could warrant such denouement? What sins had to be redressed? What sacrifices had to be made for tomorrow to come?

And, in turning his attention back to him, Kaiser asked another question.

Who would pay the cost?

Phoenix closed his eyes. Kaiser was asking a simple question. One anyone would ask. It was a question as old as time and memory itself, as old as wars and peace, life and death. For as long as there had been good and evil in this world, there had to be means of attaining each. How much do you pay for the end? And is it even worth it?

Hawke heard a soft chuckle behind him and a voice that belonged with Caesar's ghost in the past. "Big questions, Aiden." He heard the voice say as if he had heard Hawke's musings. "But they are not for you to answer."

Hawke looked at Mordred, to the newcomer. Whatever strength he had left was lost as he stared into the face of a long dead soldier.  Into the very eyes of not Kaiser but his heir.

"No," Hawke whispered as his reverie ended. "It can't be…"

Before him was Sydney Van Ness, alive and well. But that was impossible. Sydney was dead, and had been for decades now. He had died with his brothers on Day of the Dead. Hawke himself had packed up the belongings, had held a weeping Amissa in his arms as they held a memorial ceremony and had himself mourned for this fallen soldier.

But yet, there he stood as whole and healthy as if the past two decades hadn't come at all. His face was still the fine mixture of fading youth and regal age, a blend of years and sorrows that dimmed his blue eyes and was barely beginning to touch his dirty blond hair with gray.  His top lip was split from a boyhood injury that Hawke use to tease him about endlessly during his Academy days. He was even wearing gloves, something Sydney had been know to do even during the most sweltering of Hecate's summers.

But no, it could not be him. Sydney was dead.

Hawke looked up, through the awe and outrage. "What are you?" He asked the thing- and indeed he refused to acknowledge it even as human.

"Ask me what I was." The creature answered, mockingly. "For I am death, conquered. I am slave to a great Master, who reduce this world to ash and claim the next as his throne."

It was Sydney's voice, and Sydney's laugh, but everything in Hawke screamed this was untrue. The words he had used frightened Hawke. He strained to look past the pride in Sydney's eyes for semblance of the man he had known, some inkling of the former self.

"Sydney…it's me." He whispered, dumbly. "It's Aiden." He made a movement to reach out and touch the creature, only to watch it step back.

"Careful, Auror." The thing taunted, "You'll wake Samedi."

Samedi…

Hawke jerked his head up and winced from the pain. Sydney must have caught this terror-driven action and acted on it. He smiled at him and nodded. In his arms, he was carrying a bundle covered in a blanket. He turned to the bundle and whispered something into it before pushing back the edge of the blanket to reveal a beautiful blond haired toddler. Sydney was very reverent in the way he pushed back the makeshift hood, to let her wave of golden hair fall around her face, framing the deepest sky blue eyes Hawke had ever seen.

And the girl smiled at him. Something strange happened then, Hawke felt every pain fall from his body like an ill-fitting robe. Every sorrow and pain seemed to fall off him like rain as he looked into her eyes, and with it every care and responsibility with it. He suddenly wanted very much to stay with the child forever, to feel the serenity that seemed to flow into his heart to replace whatever had been there before. It was not love he felt for the child, that much was certain, nor was it joy that he received from her. Instead it was more like a calm, gentle rest that came after what seemed like a lifetime of labor.

"Yes," Sydney was saying but Hawke was only half-listening. "Beautiful isn't she? Not some fearful monster most people believe she should be. She's the beginning you know, after all this is over, even if Voldemort and the others fail, she'll still exist. She always has, and always will. That's her power, you see, the power even the Dark Lord fears…and now she is my Master's. The most powerful of all weapons is now with the proper Lord." Sydney glanced up at Mordred and nodded. "And this is just the beginning."

Mordred grabbed Hawke's neck and twisted it firmly, smirking at the wonderful snap sound it made as the Auror fell dead to the floor. He kneeled down and began to undo the gauntlets from Hawke's wrists, glancing up only to look briefly at the child. He paused for a moment, staring into her eyes and feeling deep within his soul a fear he could not name. He jerked away from her, unwilling to gaze on anything capable of making him feel so afraid and unsure.

"She's a weapon?" He asked, quietly and tried not to care.

Sydney was tickling the girl's chin, cooing her back to sleep. "She will be, when Imre is done teaching her. She'll be the ultimate tool for my Master. She can be no other."

Mordred flinched as he fastened the gauntlets onto his wrists. He felt the magic course through them as they tightened onto his wrist to  guard him as they had their former Master. He still had work to finish here, he told himself, and tried to ignore Sydney as he disappeared into the darkness. That child was none of his concern.

But it still bothered him. He had been raised as a tool and a weapon as well and that was no life to live. Who was he to change that for the girl? He was just a tool himself after all.

Wasn't he?

Amissa shut her eyes as debris showered her as she ran from victim to victim, doing what she could to help those who could be saved, and comforting those who couldn't be. Things were blurring in her eyes, from smoke and terror and hundreds of other reasons she didn't fully understand or even want to. Her mind was pushed to its limit from the chaos. She had never before seen war this up close, and instantly her mind traveled back to the horror stories she heard from Day of the Dead.

This had been the kind of hell that Sydney had died in…

Inwardly, she made a note to apologize to Erised after this was all over. Somehow, the monster Ari had become seemed more understandable.

"Amissa!"

She turned, and saw Gideon running towards her. "Gid! Oh thank Merlin, I was worried you'd…"

"Come on, Remus has a wounded student over here! He needs your hel-" Gideon's sentence was cut short by a loud explosion behind him. He was thrown forward, falling face forward on the ground.

"Gideon!" Amissa screamed as she raced to him. She fell to her knees and grabbed his shoulders, rolling him over. Gideon was choking on dirt that she brushed away quickly. He tried to laugh and when that failed, smiled at her. She swallowed, looking over his body and seeing nothing. "Come on, Malfoy, I'm taking you inside to help. Up, come on-"

"No, no, no, Amissa." Gideon laughed a little as he reached over and grabbed her arm. "Here I fell, and I'm going to stay." He smirked again grimly as he tried to reach behind him.

Amissa followed his hand and slid her hand around and felt it. It was a thick piece of wood that had embedded itself in his liver. "Oh Merlin, Gideon come on…I got to get you…"

"Amissa, shush…" He whispered, suddenly. He had turned very pale and was beginning to shake. "You know, Missa…I wasn't really a total cad." He said, trying to finish his sentence. "I really only ever loved Chandra…please tell her for me. I love her, I'll always love her. I'm afraid I never told her enough…"

Amissa closed her eyes against the tears. "You'll tell her yourself, Gideon…come on, let's get up."

He smiled thinly now. "Do me a favor? Bury me with my family, Amissa, not at Hecate…I want to die a Malfoy."

"Gideon, don't, please…"

"It's one of the only things I'm proud of being…" Gideon whispered as his eyes slid close. He went quiet as he fell into death, going limp in Amissa's arms, she let him slowly fall to the ground. Looking up, she screamed at the top of her lungs before slumping over the frame and crying.


	21. Through Destiny

**Chapter Twenty-One: Through Destiny **

Albus drew his hand over Ari's forehead, pushing away the bleached blond locks and thinking grimly of the world outside. He thought of the first war, when Erised had stood strong, bold, and complete with the other Order of the Phoenix members. He thought of the countless stupid memories that make up the in between times of war. The times when soldiers become comrades and friends and there are subtle reminders of what everyone is fighting for.

He could still hear the laughter ringing against the walls over left over pizza and stale alcohol. The Longbottoms sitting across from the Potters, throwing bent cards on the table and swearing they'd never again play against them, knowing full well that the promise would be broken next Friday. He could see Sirius and Caradoc Dearborn tumble on the floor like children as Hagrid and Mad Eye discussed the redeeming qualities (if there were any) of Dragons. And in the corner of the room, he could see Erised reclining purposefully in the window ledge, watching her human counterparts. She'd always be still, with one leg bent on the sill, and the other one dangling over the edge. Her arms would be crossed, or sometimes she'd be holding a newspaper or book she'd be pretending to read while she watched them. She loved to watch them. Albus use to catch her eye every once in a while to smile at her and nod and she would return the look with bowed head and a soft smile before going back to her study. She had loved watching life but had never taken part it in.

He had always secretly wondered if Severus had let her live and that's where her undying devotion had come from.

Albus tilted his head suddenly, hearing something from outside the infirmary. He turned his body as he stood, staring at the door, waiting. Outside, coming closer was a gentle rhythmic tapping as someone with a cane came closer.

The doors opened and admitted a man dressed in a fine white linen suit, and fedora who walked with the aid of a dark brown cane that was craved with some primitive art. The cane was a piece of art, to be sure, with a white tip that trailed into dark brown and cravings Albus could not see at this distance. "Headmaster Dumbledore," The man started. "At last we meet again. I remember telling you then that you would become a Wizard, and indeed you have fulfilled my every wish for you." Dumbledore stood, taking a step in front, between Ari and the stranger. The man noticed this and laughed. "You don't remember me, do you?"

"Should I?"

"Now I am disappointed," He replied. Lifting his head, the man removed his hat and bowed. As he rose, and stepped forward, light finally began to pour unto his features revealing a narrow, aged face and features that made his face seem older then it was somehow. His light brown eyes were wide, round, and immediately trusting, lending an almost grandfatherly appearance to his soft smile. "But this reunion is for another time. My business lies with St. Michael."

"And I'm afraid, I can't let you touch Erised."

"And you're going to do what exactly? Fight me?" Imre smirked. "I thought you were above such brute means. Why don't you just step aside and leave the sinners to the devil. You still have people you can save."

"She's not dead yet." Albus said, shortly, reaching for his wand.

"But she's already mine." Imre looked annoyed as picked up his cane. He sighed quietly and rolled his shoulders. "But, have it your way then."

"Fuck me running!"

Severus winced as he sat up, rubbing his side. He threw his head back and inhaled heavily, willing himself to stand. Pushing up, one foot at a time, he stood. Only to be thrown back as Radella slammed him with another curse. He fell back down, biting down as the pain enveloped him. He stood again, and this time Choice was the one who descended on him. Choice, unlike Radella, seemed unwilling or unable to harm Snape physically. He seemed only able to keep Snape down while Radella took her time.

"Is this the man who has made the nations tremble?" Radella hissed, as she stalked towards him, kicking his chin. "Look at you, you were once grand and all powerful…where is your true nature? I feel it inside of you, longing for release. Why not? Why do you cling to your compassion? I know you have the power to kill us even now! Why not accept what you are? Stop fighting!"

"Why don't you just shut up and kill me, eh?" Snape hissed as he sat up.

"Avada Kedreva!"

"I didn't mean literally!" Radella had a blank look on her face, as she took a step forward then collapsed. Snape blinked and looked up.

Kiernan Malone was standing there, with his wand aimed now at Choice. Choice had jumped back, staring wearily at the man but making no action for defense. He was staring at Kiernan waiting. "You okay, my Prince?"

Severus looked up at him, and nodded dumbly. "Although, I have to admit, I never thought you'd rescue me."

Kiernan glanced at him, and shrugged. "It's a family tradition, isn't it? What do I do with him?"

"What you do to all monsters." Choice said, "you destroy them."

"I've seen monsters, boy." Kiernan remarked. "You're nothing to fear."

"What else could I be? I've destroyed everything I hold dear."

"Then you're a fighter, just like the rest of us."

Snape had stood now, picking up his wand and shaking his head to regain himself. He inhaled, as he turned to watch Choice. A million things were running through his head- none of which he truly understood or really want to feel right now. He released the breath he didn't know he was holding. "Let him go, Kiernan."

"Can we trust him not to curse us while our back is turned?"

"He has no reason to. I'm not his enemy. Neither are you." Snape stared at Choice for a long time before inhaling. "I don't think he knows who the true enemy is here. Till he does, he lives."

"How can you spare my life when I have killed Jackie and Erised? When their blood and how many others is on my hands?"

"Because I'm tired of being judge and jury when my own sins are unaccounted for. It's time this all ended."

"At last something we agree on, father."

Kiernan turned, wand poised on Mordred as he appeared. Mordred smiled at him, flicking his wrists in the moonlight, letting the familiar Hawk and Phoenix emblem glisten menacingly. Snape licked his lips and inhaled, deeply. He swallowed heavily, refusing to acknowledge the revelation that came with Mordred donning Hawke's famous armor. "Kiernan, thank you but I believe there are others who will need you're help."

"I cannot leave you."

"This is not your fight."

"We Malone are guardians of the rightful Prince. Would you have me betray my family?"

"You may very well be the last of the Malone, be careful not to betray them by allowing your blood to die tonight."

Kiernan frowned and stepped forward. Snape reached up and touched the St. Michael pendant. Begrudgingly, Kiernan bowed. He turned to Choice and narrowed his eyes. "Run, Coven. Find whatever reason you can to continue to live and run. If you cannot live, then die with honor…"

Choice inhaled wordlessly, before ducking and running away. Kiernan turned once more, watching Mordred before walking away himself. Severus closed his eyes for a moment, hand still lingering over the necklace. So many had died tonight, and before and would after and he was getting tired of it. He exhaled shortly, and turned to look up at the stars. He wondered for a moment if he stared long enough into them would he understand everything that ever happened under them, and everything that was hidden from them. He wondered if it was possible to understand these things.

And would it even matter now.

"Are you looking for absolution, father?" Mordred asked quietly. "Tell me, does this give you any peace? After all even as an Auror all you would create is destruction…are you so surprised then, that your son would also know only death?"

"You don't want to know my mood, Mordred, don't act like you do." Snape said as he turned. "So why don't we end this?"

"Never have you made me happier…" Mordred said, pulling his wand and screaming. "Tenjin!"

Snape screamed as his hands flew to his left eye, over the familiar mark of his Princehood. He jerked his head down, hiding it from view as he fell to a kneeling position. Lord Voldemort, it appeared, had taught his new Prince how to punish the old. He felt the scars over his eye searing and he screamed again. He forgot how much that hurt.

"I have to admit, that is a neat little trick." Mordred laughed, quietly. "Get use to it father, you'll be begging for death before I'm done…but each in it's own time. I will earn my kingdom."

Remus practically tackled Amissa as she appeared beside him. She laughed slightly and clung to him long enough to bury her nose in his shoulder and kiss his cheek. She felt his strong arms around her, clutching to her for some semblance of assurance she was okay.

"You shouldn't be out here, Amissa." Remus said, urgently. "Get back inside. If Gideon saw you…"

"Gideon's dead, Remus." She cut him off, ignoring his look of pain. "And I'm needed out here."

"I thought you were staying inside with Erised."

"I was but you guys need my help more." Amissa said, pulling away. She turned and squatted down by Angelo, drawing her hands over his back and his stomach to mend the burns. She chanted in Runic as she brushed his skin and watched, somewhat grimly, waiting for Angelo's Kaga immunities began to take over. When it did not happen, she frowned, looking down and staring at Angelo. He looked away, wincing from the pain and forcing her to employ to the more in depth healing she reserved for humans.

"You never did tell me who you're parents were." She said, quietly. "I thought you were Malone."

"I am," Angelo said smartly. "Through marriage. My mother married Eoin Malone when my father died. I took Eoin's name when I was four."

"You're not a blood relative."

"I am Eoin's son. In every way that matters." Angelo said, sitting up. He looked up at Amissa with a look of silent rebuke. "After all, I was Malone enough for you to hate me."

"And now? What else are you blood enough to do?"

Angelo was prodding his newly healed wound as he stood. "I am strong enough to protect my Charge till I die or his fate is sealed."

"Your Charge?" Remus asked, glancing at Amissa. "What does he mean?"

"Harry," Amissa whispered. "You're protecting Harry, aren't you?"

"My father spent many years training me in warfare and protection, and it is a task Professor Snape took up once he died. Snape has asked me to protect Harry with my life and I will not fail him now."

"Angelo," Amissa called. "You're injured. I healed you but it's foolish to go so quickly back into the fight. Stay here where it's safe."

"We all have a roles to play in this, Professor Moon, please do not deny me mine." Angelo said smartly before turning and walking away, towards the direction Harry had taken.

Amissa fell back into Remus' arms, exhaling. "He's a fool. They all are."

Remus wrapped his arms around Amissa and kissed her. "We are all, you mean. Don't forget, we're out here too."

"I'm frightened, Remus."

"Me too, Amissa. But don't worry. Stay close to me and you'll be safe."

"Don't lie to the girl, Remus," Growled a voice, that caused Remus instantly to release Amissa and swing to his feet, hands out like claws. Amissa looked up and caught the image of a man, also standing poised for battle without a wand. His green eyes were pouring deep into Remus and on his thin lips were a smile that immediately brought Silas Malfoy to mind. "You'll be dead before the day's over." The man hissed. "And so will anyone who stands in my way."

"Leave her out of this, Ezra." Remus shouted, growling deeply as he sidestepped to stand between Amissa and Ezra. "She's not a part of this."

"You brought her into this." Ezra countered. "When you dared choose her and her kind over your pack! After we have done everything to protect you! You betray us! For a human!"

"This isn't about pack loyalties, Ezra. It's about what's right."  
            "I say what is right for our pack, not you!" Ezra stepped back, arching his back as he prepared for an attack.  "And you seem to have forgotten that." He tilted his head. "No matter, Riener will probably be more of an apt pupil."

At the sound of his son's name, Remus howled and tackled Ezra. The elder werewolf took hold of Remus' shoulder, lifted him up and threw him like a rag doll. Amissa screamed and moved to stand, but Ezra was quicker, driving his weight into a powerful uppercut that sent Amissa too sprawling onto the ground. Remus was up on his feet by the time Amissa slide to a rest. He paused, and called to her but there was no reply. Amissa wasn't moving, and there was a thin lip of blood coming from her mouth. He couldn't see her breathing, nor discern any sign of life.

Remus howled again, and turned back to Ezra. "You'll pay for that!" He shouted and threw himself again at his leader.

Peter Pettigrew had been a quiet, unassuming child who had always taken what he viewed as the safest route. He had never meant, nor wished for anything to come to him that was big, adventurous or new in anyway. His bravery had been the kind born out of an understanding that strong ties to important people made you important as well. To that end, he had always been attracted to the best sort of peoples. He had learned to be charming but forgettable, able but not paramount, and above all, to be loyal to a certain rational extent.

He was in truth, not some grand traitor. It wasn't that he lacked the genius or prudence to be cunning but he found it a waste of time. He had simply followed the change in the winds so to speak and had adapted accordingly. Heroes and villains were grandiose titles that he never much cared for. He preferred quite simply to be Peter. And to be Peter, he needed to be alive.

James and Lily wouldn't have understood this, even if he had sat them down and explained it to them as children. No, they were too immersed in Dumbledore's lies (and indeed they were lies because there was nothing honorable about being dead) to understand the finer nuances of compromise. Sirius Black would have been the same way. Not that Black would have cared for the grandiose titles or even, Peter secretly thought, for the crusade of justice and truth the Potters were after. No, Black would only understand loyalty to his friends, and if that meant dying for their adopted cause, so be it.

Maybe Remus would have understood. Remus was always the smartest of the group. He had been quiet, unassuming and an outcast. He had been a killer before any of them had dared murdered in the name of good. Remus understood things, probably because of his wolf nature, as not about values or codes, but rather survival. After all, even if you had a cause- you couldn't do much good for it dead, could you?

But none of his careful observations or painstakingly rational choices that had kept Peter alive for so long matter now, as he slumped to his knees, struck by the Killing curse.

His arguments would have fallen on deaf ears had he tried to explain this all to Harry Potter, who presently drew back his wand, stunned by his own actions but not regretting them.

Harry was, after all, his parent's son.

And currently, he was reeling from the fact that he had now killed twice in his life. He remembered the feeling of utter despair that had followed Kaiya's death and was a little alarmed that he felt none of that now. In fact, if he were perfectly honest with himself, Harry would admit he felt happy Peter was dead…

He felt justified.

"And it does get easier, doesn't it?" Harry jumped as he heard the cold, deep voice only to be thrown into waves of pain as his scar began to burn, screaming out the new enemy's identity. Voldemort smiled a thin, tight-lipped smile. "Feels good, doesn't it? To hold within your hands to power over life and death. It's euphoric, knowing that it is your choice, no, your whim that someone will continue their miserable existence on this earth, or be sent into the next. The words become like honey after a while, I promise and soon, you'll be quite certain there's nothing lovelier then what they produce…as long as it's for other people. To think, I offered you all that, and you refused me. I still offer it, Harry. Think about it, I can give you godhood, and nothing will stand in your way and all you have to do…is ask."

"I'll never join you!" Harry shouted, feeling rage well up in his throat. "You think you have all the power, all the strength but you're nothing but smoke and mirrors! You're nothing but a sniveling, cowardly little mudblood who's afraid of the Dark! You're someone who can't fight his own battles and has to rely on Princes and demons to fight for you! You're nothing but a pack cards!"

"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted.

Harry fell to his knees in pain, but he didn't scream. Biting down, hard on his tongue, he tasted but blood but swore he would not scream. He would not give Voldemort that satisfaction. He felt the curse release after what seemed like an eternity but was closer to a few minutes later, and looked up, panting.

Voldemort had stepped back and was staring at Harry, in disbelief. In his eyes was a look of utter shock, as if he had seen someone before hold such resolve under the curse, and had feared this creature. Harry smiled as the grim discovery sunk in. Now, Voldemort feared him too.

"Brave little puppet." Voldemort said, recovering. "It appears your Professors have taught you well. But it will make little difference. Like that night in the graveyard, you're alone. There is no one here to save you."

"He's not alone." Angelo said, coming unto the scene, and glancing at Harry.

Voldemort sneered. "Am I dog? To be chased by little boys with sticks? I'm ashamed, Angelo. You were the son of a great man, a true warrior, and yet you betray him by joining the half-breeds and weaklings."

"I would rather bow to child like Potter then serve a mudblood like you, sir." Angelo quipped with the slightest bit of cheek, merging with his familiar respectful tone.

"Then die for him like others have already done! Avada Kedreva!"

Angelo ducked away from the curse, spinning around and shouting a counter curse at the Dark Lord. Harry watched in horror as Voldemort laughed at the curse, before sending out one that sent Angelo flying. Pulling his wand, Harry jerked away from the curse that Voldemort sent, ducking low and waiting for his time.

"Crucio!" He heard Angelo shout, wand out and blood coming from his eye. Angelo glanced at Harry for a split second before shouting. "Well don't just stand there! Shoot!"

"Crucio!" Harry shouted, aiming his wand at Voldemort as well.

The counter was quick and painful, sending both boys hurtling to the ground. Harry and Angelo sat up at the same time; blinked at each other and jumped up to go again. Harry knew that this would be the battle that Dumbledore had been protecting him from for so long. He was thankful not to go through it alone, even if his partner was not Ron or Hermione but rather a Slytherin he had barely met. He looked over at Angelo who was fighting fiercely against Voldemort for his own reasons.

And somehow, he knew everything would be okay.

After all, there was a red sun peering over the horizon that promised a beautiful new day was coming.


	22. And unto Completion

**Chapter Twenty-Two: And unto Completion **

"Say your prayers, little one, and don't forget my son, to include everyone." Choice sang softly as he walked up the stairs leading to the nursery. "Tuck you in, warm within. Keep you free from sin, till the sandman, he comes."

He stopped long enough to cough, attempting to expel the smoke from the fire that licking at his heels. Behind him, lying where she had fallen was Cora, Ezra's wife, and the werewolf that had been left behind to protect Riener James, and the Astor Estate from any big bad that dared risk it.

It was a beautiful estate to be sure. The Astor clan had been a family of true werewolves, but unlike so many, had flaunted it proudly. They had been allies of the Snape, Malfoy, Nott, and Wyvern families, which had only secured their place as "respectable" society. Their house had expressed their wealth and prestige. Large, ornate woodwork overcame every facet of the home, making it lovely and dark.

But very quick to catch fire, as Choice learned, when he set the curtains ablaze. He had stood there in the foyer watching as the fires began to catch unto the wood, turning the beautiful palatial residence into hell itself.

"Something's wrong, shut the light. Heavy thoughts tonight." Choice sang in a hushed, whispered tone. "And they aren't of snow white. Dreams of war, dreams of liars, dreams of dragon's fire and things that will bite. Exit light, enter night, take my hand and off we go to never, never land."

Riener James was curled into a ball as he slept. His dark curly hair hung lazily over the two year old's bright, round face. Choice leaned down and picked him up, careful not to wake him and by doing so prolong the child's suffering. Riener stirred, shivering but never opened his eyes.

"Papa?" Riener asked, sleepily.

"That's right, RJ. It's me, now go to sleep."

Riener yawned and buried himself into Choice's chest. Choice shut his eyes, wiping away his tears and leaning against the wall as he sat on RJ's bed. The toddler curled into his arms, knowing that, as he slept no harm would him as long as Choice was there to guard him.

Choice shut his eyes as the smoke seeped into the room. He was not afraid to die, and indeed he knew he had too. It was like Kiernan had said, die with honor. He knew that before the day was over, another attempt would be made on Lord Voldemort's life and Choice knew, acutely, that all that stood between Voldemort and final defeat was his- and Riener's life.

"Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, I'll pray the lord my soul to take." Choice began again, slowly and sadly as he sang. He half hummed, half sang as he brushed his hands over RJ's forehead, brushing away the hair and coughing out the smoke. "Hush little baby, don't say a word, never mind that noise you heard. It's just the beast under your bed, in your closet, in your head…exit light, enter night, and take my hand…" Choice shut his eyes as the fire entered the room, and shut his eyes tight against what he knew was coming. "And we're off to never land…God, I love you Kaiya." He whispered as he pulled RJ closer to his chest. "I love you, Kaiya."

But if she heard him, he would never know. All that was certain was as the flames crept closer and as he drifted to sleep, Choice was certain he had never seen anything as peaceful as the fire as it overtook him.

Ezra looked up at Remus blinking the blood out of his eyes and laughing. "Congratulations Remus, I knew you always had it in you."

"What are you talking about?" Remus growled, his arms positioned in such a way that one, carefully poised movement would end his friend's life.

"I knew you would be a great leader one day," Ezra laughed. "You just needed to be a monster. That was always your weakness, Remus. You were too afraid of yourself to embrace what you are and so you were never anything more then a coward, a watcher while other men created a world you could have ruled but chose only to exist in."

"I was never like you, or Elise," Remus countered. "I never wanted to be anything more then her husband and a father to her children. But no, you and her had to go and be part in the Dark Lord's stupid war! I killed for you Ezra and in the end you made me no better then a common Death Eater!"

"I gave you the chance a future! Something you could have never had without me! You were a freak to them, Remus! A monster wither you chose to be or not! James and the others might have acted like they were your friends but they were not, I was- and am, the only thing that stood between you and the real world."

"I could have handled never being accepted." Remus said, thoughtfully with more pain then he meant. "But I just wanted to live and be able to look at myself in the mirror. That's why I left you those years ago, Ezra. I just wanted to be a man too."

"And now you've damned our entire pack…"

"Look around you, Ezra. There's nothing left of our pack to rescue." He leaned down. "And that's your doing." With one swift movement, Remus jerked his hands, breaking Ezra's neck and stepping back to drop the body.

He stood there, watching the prone figure for a long time, mulling over memories and the truth behind Ezra's words. He knew that he would always be a monster, and now, at least he was at peace with that. He couldn't help what he was, but that didn't give him- or anyone to right to cause such a mess over things. After today was over, Remus knew nothing would be the same.

There was a passing of time, of an era; Remus could feel it in his bones. As he looked towards the East, he could see the sun rising over the horizon and beginning to make the world new again. No longer would people be determined by such uncontrollable things like blood, or family legacies, or house loyalties or shared histories. They would be seen for what they were- parts of a whole and nothing else. His kind, who had fought for the continuation of their blood, or their way of life, on both sides, were losing power and it was up to the next generation to make things in their image, to make every new.

The war at long last would be over, for the mere reason that there was no one Gods of Death to promote the war, and there were no more soldiers left to fight it.

"Amissa," he said, through the tears that stung his eyes. He was unwilling to turn around and view her body, unable to accept that she was gone. "Look, the clouds are parting, it's a new day…have you ever seen anything more beautiful?"

"No."

Remus shut his eyes, unwilling to turn and discover the voice had been a figment of his imagination.  His whole body shuttered as he felt his strength leave him. He couldn't turn around. His heart screamed at him to ignore the voice.  If he turned and Amissa wasn't alive, his heart would have broken. He couldn't. He didn't dare hope…

"Remus…look."

He turned slowly, to her and laughed through his tears. She was sitting up, leaning heavily on one arm, with the other around her stomach, holding it protectively. Watching her there, Remus knew he loved her and could never bare the idea of losing her again. He exhaled, and began to speak. "Amissa, marry…"

"Remus," She repeated. "Look!"

He looked in the direction she was staring, he could see Angelo and Harry in the distance, both advancing as one on the black clad figure who was stumbling as he retreated, trying desperately to break the union between the toy boys. He shouted out a curse that from this distance, Remus could not understand and watch as Harry shouted out a counter. The curse struck the Dark Lord, causing him to fall to his knees, and lash out like a frightened animal. He braced himself for one last powerful curse, screaming out the incantation at the same time both boys did the same.

Green lights from each of the three wands flew at each other, connecting and creating a huge, blinding white light that caused Remus and Amissa to look away. A powerful tremor resounded through the ground, throwing Remus from his feet and blocking out all his senses from the aftermath of such a powerful accumulation of magics.

After what seemed like an eternity, Remus looked up again, after Amissa had grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet to run to the boys. All around them, the battles had stopped, as the Werewolf, Aurors and Death Eaters stood in mute silence, unwilling or unable to understand what had happened.

It was like the whole world was holding its breath.

Amissa dropped to her knees besides Angelo and Harry's bodies. She pulled off Angelo, who had thrown himself over the boy who lived during the explosion to shield him from the aftermath. She turned and stared at Angelo's face, putting her fingers to his neck- trying desperately to find some sign of life. Remus could tell by her face she wasn't finding any.

Harry began to cough, standing up and rubbing his forehead. His scar had burst, and pools of blood streaming down his face, and the veins in his eyes had burst painting the white of his eyes red. He was shaking terribly, and unsuccessfully trying to wipe the blood from his face.  Amissa reached over and touched his scar, whispering a Runic invocation to stop the bleeding.

"What…what's happened?" Harry asked, dumbly. "Where's…"

Remus was looking around nervously, looking for remainder of Voldemort, some proof that this demon was gone forever. He inhaled slowly and sniffed the air, thoughtfully. He shook his head and turned back to Harry. "It's over."

"All of it?"

"It would seem that way…"

Harry blinked as he discovered Angelo's body. "So what happens now?"

It was a white-hot pain that began to sear through Snape's senses and for an instant he thought Mordred had used the Killing Curse on him.  The pain erupted through his body like a bomb, drowning out any sense of self or reality. He began to choke as the waves of pain hit twice more, surging around him like ozone after the rain before he was he was allowed to collapsed, and force air back into his lungs. For a moment, he was sure that he was dying. It struck him a moment later what had happened. 

Voldemort was gone. Harry Potter had delivered on his promise.

The little punk did it.

Snape was trying to catch his breath, as he looked at his son. Mordred was on the floor too, rubbing his left forearm gingerly, and staring at it in disbelief. Snape could tell there was nothing in all of Mordred's careful training that had prepared him for defeat. No one had taught him how to react if Lord Voldemort, his savior and eternal king, was bested. No one had ever taught this Prince defeat.

"Now what is your kingdom?" Snape asked, raggedly.

Mordred looked up at him wild-eyed. "I don't understand…"

"There is no kingdom, anymore, Mordred. Voldemort has been defeated. There nothing left, no more worlds to conquer, no more crimes to redress." Snape stood. "It's over. Nothing's the same anymore."

"I am still Prince." Mordred choked out, struggling to control the well of emotions that he could not contain.

"With what Kingdom to rule? It's over you're free. Tomorrow the sun will rise and you'll no longer be a Prince.  But you will be still be alive, and you have to find out, what are you going to do with that life? I would wish you a better chance then I had when I was in your place." Snape whispered as he drew his hand over his eye, wincing from the pain of the tender flesh. "And maybe I can help you…"

Mordred stood finally, watching him carefully. "After all this, you would help me?"

"You're my son. I admit I haven't been the best of fathers, and in truth, I don't really know what that means, but I know something of protecting. You don't have to be alone in this. You don't have to run."

"I'll take my chances running." Mordred whispered as he walked slowly away from him. "I'd take my chances with death."

"Mordred," Snape strained, lifting his hand towards his son. There were so many things he wanted to say, so much he wanted to express but he could not find the words to make everything better. "…Please."

Mordred flinched as if he had been struck, before shaking his head and turning to run away.

Snape closed his eyes and fell to his knees, conquered.

Lucius Malfoy had never been a great man. He had been cultured, refined and a deadly warrior but he had never been a leader. Not that he minded, he was wise council that his Lord Voldemort and his Dark Prince had trusted. He had been respected and feared and had the type of stylish life he enjoyed and come to expect. He had never cared for great kingdoms or worthy prizes. He had sincerely believed his blood was precious and needed to protected from all cost, like one would protect gold, silk or other fine, but fragile things. His had been a holy crusade, not some radical jihad and there had really had been nothing more that Lucius had wanted besides keeping his blood secure and his family safe. Simple, reasonable demands, weren't they? You would do the same in his place, after all.

But somewhere in the quest to protect his pure blood, too much had been spilt. Everyone was dead now. Everyone that mattered in the Dark Court. Eoin Malone and the rest of the Throne of Souls were dead many years now, Jackie was missing somewhere, the Coven was lost and even the Dark Prince was lost forever.

And now, he had even lost Narcissa.

He was sitting on the ground as Hogwarts loomed before him and chaos ran wild around him, simply holding his wife in his arms and silently willing for her to return to him. He didn't care about the war anymore, didn't care what was happening. He just wanted Narcissa. He had done all things for her, had committed all kinds of sins for her- to both secure her and then keep her safe and she had died for him.

It wasn't fair.

"Lucius?"

He looked up, blinking as the sun blinded him. For a long time he struggled to identify the voice. It called out to him twice more before he recognized it. "Yes, what is it, Kiernan?"

"My lord, is it true? The battle is lost?"

"What are they saying at Hecate?"

"At Hecate, we are fleeing into the darkness. Mordred is missing I fear he has run and here?"

"Our king is dead. There is no more battle without him."

Kiernan blinked, and nodded. "You're orders?"

Lucius looked around, "Tell whatever Death Eaters and werewolves that are still alive to claim our dead and disappear. The Aurors, I'm sure, will come for us in time but we cannot let them desecrate our dead. That we will deny them." He sighed and looked down, stroking Narcissa's forehead as he leaned down and kissed her cold lips. "And I would ask one thing of you, Kiernan."

"Anything my lord."

"I am condemned already. This is not a fate I fear or regret. But I would like to die with some dignity left. To die, as my comrades have, on the battlefield and not cowering in some prison, soulless and forgotten. I would die as the generals of old did, falling on their swords with some honor left." He looked up at Kiernan. "Do you understand what I ask?"

Kiernan nodded, slowly. "Yes, my Master." He reached for his wand and aimed it at Lucius. "To die with honor."

Lucius bowed his head and kissed Narcissa again. "To die with honor."

"Avada Kedreva."

The green light lasted only for a moment before Lucius slumped over Narcissa's body, and a moment later, Kiernan kneeled down, placing his hands over them both and Apparating away.

When he had seen the light, and had felt the tremors through the magic of Voldemort's death, Imre had removed his hand from over Albus' head and stopped chanting to watch the light show. He grimaced angrily at the lost of talent but felt no real remorse for the Dark Lord. He had been like all the others before- too preoccupied with power and their petty pursuits to understand that there was more to life (and death) then their desires. Tom Riddle had never understood, in any incarnation that death was not the enemy, nor was it a tool to be used like a fancy wand tricks or lost incantations. He had never understood that true power was not man's to possess, no matter how pure his blood. True power was to command death itself and have it obey. It was to make God your servant in doing so, become god yourself.

Imre rose to his feet and walked to the bed. Ari had her eyes closed in slumber, with shallow breathing to mark her fragile life. Imre watched her for a long time, listening to her song. She was faint, weak and half-hearted, which means she would likely pull out of the battle to live to another one and continue to be a ever constant thorn in his side. He could not have that.

Still, it seemed a shame to waste such power and determination like hers. Gingerly, Imre reached into his coat ad pulled out a polished dagger. This dagger had been a gift to St. Michael, and had been her constant companion in her years of darkness. Now it would take her into the valley of the dead. He lifted it over his head and whispered. "It is a small target, but I shall aim for your heart, great one."

Ari jolted in bed, clutching at the dagger in shock. Her face began to distort with pain as she struggled to accept air that would not enter her lungs. She kept gasping for air, and tearing up from pain Imre could not imagine, but he could hear. Her death song was ringing in his ears now, like a sweet symphony. She looked up and met his eyes in pure terror.

"Yes," Imre whispered. "You know what is happening."

Ari shook her head fiercely, refusing to accept this. She fell back as pools of blood began to stain the white sheets. She had tears in her eyes, and was now searching for salvation that would not come. "Bela…"

She took three short breaths, and never exhaled as the body relaxed and her eyes darken, staring forever into infinity.

"Oh no, no, not yet." Imre said, waving his hand over her face. He lifted his cane and rested it on the bed, after touching her forehead and pulling out the knife. He held the knife over his cane for a drop of her blood to smear into the woodwork. The cane glowed slightly before returning to its look of innocence. He began to speak in a language that had been lost to time but spoke directly to the spirit.

Ari's eyes clouded, turned white, and then returned to their gray color before slipping close. Imre watched as the wound near her heart sealed itself with a small glyph that glowed black before turning to the natural skin tone. Her chest began to move slowly as air filled the lungs for the last time and the endless slumber settled in. 

She opened her eyes, slowly and sat up, staring at her hands as if they were something new and unfamiliar. She studied her disfigured hand, frowning slightly before staring at the snake shaped burn that twisted up her arm.

Finally, she looked up at him. "Master? What has happened?" She flinched from the voice as if she had never heard it before and curled into the bed, frightened.

Imre smiled. "Shush, creature. I will explain soon. First, we must go."

"Go? Where?"

"To meet the others. Trust me, little one. I have wonders to show you…and you have many things to do in my name before you allowed to rest. Understand?"

Ari nodded slowly. "You speak and I'll obey." Imre smiled, taking her hand and walking out of the infirmary.

And thus, it began.


	23. Into a Brave New World

**Epilogue: Into a Brave New World**

"I look stupid with this cane." Snape hissed under his breath as he limped towards the open door ceremony.

Sind Charlemagne rolled her eyes and reached over, taking his arm and helping him walk. "You look dignified."

"No, I look crippled." He countered, fighting against the uneasiness that was in his stomach. He had been to graduation services before, but for some reason, he didn't care to admit- this one he feared. He tugged on his collar and looked down distastefully at his navy robes. That were tailored to his body with prefect precision, down to the black gloves he wore and the boots that shined with pride. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing his blind left eye and the scars that adorned it, proudly.

He felt at home in his own skin now, finally and he had always thought that once he donned the navy again, things would be whole within and without. He could not understand why he felt so disconnected now.

It took him a second to realize the cause, and it came, only as he walked closer to the Hogwart's graduating class. He realized how very much a part of his life Hogwarts had been. He felt slightly guilty now, having spent all his years longing for Hecate only to discover he had made a new home here and had loved it just as dearly.

But, he didn't regret his choice. For the first time in his life, he was everything everyone wanted him to be and more importantly, he was what he was and there was no mask to hide behind.

But there were still signs of war; Hogwarts itself was standing as proud and as untouched as it always had but it was colder now, distant. It no longer held the warmth and security that had once made it so beloved. Now it was something that seemed cruel at the worst, and very fragile at the best. It occurred to him now, that Hogwarts had been a refuge for so many, and would never be that again. Not to his generation or the next. For them, Hogwarts would be forever the place of death and the final battle that had marred everything. It was something that would be remembered as a tribulation few were prepared for and many failed.

As he walked closer, he could hear Professor McGonagall speaking in her low, lyrical voice. Dumbledore sat behind her, leaning heavily on Professor Lupin and looking like he was about to pass away at any moment. Snape felt a stab of pain as he saw his Headmaster suffer so, but knew he could do nothing to soothe the pain. Besides Lupin, Amissa Moon sat, her hand on his leg protectively. The other House Heads, Wyvern, Flitwick and Sprout were sitting on the other side of the podium, listening to Minerva speak. Off the platform, two Aurors flanked each side, standing proudly and erect. He spotted Sean, the Auror he had 'killed' that night years ago before the war was something real. Sean turned his eyes, meeting his eyes and nodding slightly in salute before looking straight ahead. On the other side, Sky Falls stood beside Desmond Moody.

Snape felt Charlemagne pull him into the empty chairs behind the students were the visitors were seated. He looked down at the rolls of assorted parents, family members and younger Hogwarts students before bowing quickly to Minister of Magic Byron and flashing a quick smile at Jamie. She smiled back at him, glanced at Sind and wiggled her eyebrows.

Snape laughed a little and reached up to fiddle with the necklace that hung around his neck. His slid his fingers over the St. Michael figure before leaning back and turning his attention to Minerva.

"…You were the best of us all, and the brightest generation I've ever had the privilege of teaching. Yours was a generation born into a great war, one that lived- and unfortunately fought- in a great struggle and that has made you a youth touched by fire. Yours is a terrible way to come of age but know that you have exceeded our every expectation of you, and that we have never been so proud. In closing, remember in the end all we have is each other, united for a better goal for all people. Thank you, all of you for all you have lost, and everything you have given us for this cost." She looked down and inhaled deeply. "And now, to those in attendance, I present to you, the graduating class of 1997."

Snape was certain he had never heard a more earth shattering cheer in his entire life and despite himself, he smiled and joined in. Besides him, Charlemagne was screaming at the top of her lungs and Jamie had gone as far as jumping on her chair.

A few shrieks burst through the festivities as the Weasley twins set off some firecrackers that turned into frogs. Snape stepped back as the children began to run into the visitors, milling around to say last goodbyes, thank family for coming and just celebrate after such a long time.

Snape walked towards the teachers, leaning heavily on his cane and smiling at weakly at them. Sprout saw him first and jumped off the stage to hug him. He laughed as he was passed from Sprout, to Sinistra, to McGonagall, finally landing in Moon's arms. He held Amissa for a long time, inhaling.

"Do you think he's proud of me?" He whispered into her ear.

Amissa smiled, "We all are."

"Auror at Arms Alexander Snape." Dumbledore called, nodding thoughtfully. "It has a nice ring to it."

"Thank you, Headmaster. I wish I could say that I am here on a purely social visit." Snape began formally. "But I'm here for Hecate."

Dumbledore's face paled suddenly. He stepped back as if some long buried nightmare came to his mind. "What has happened?"  
"Happened?" Snape asked, playfully. "Headmaster, you're so insecure." He pulled out a stack of letters from inside his coat. "Acceptance letters from Hecate Academy, I'm to deliver them. If you'll excuse me.."

"Wait…I feel I should apologize, Severus." Albus said, quietly. "You see, I had always thought, secretly, that you had acted rashly, foolishly all these years. While I was certain you had suffered a great lost by losing your partner and _his _family, I never understood how you could have been so crushed to go to such ends." He looked down, as his voice broke. "But having lost Victoria and Aiden, my own family, now I get it. I understand." He looked up. "You can never let go. I get it now, I'm sorry."

Snape blinked, and nodded weakly. He put one arm around Albus and pulled him into a tight hug. For a long time, Snape just held him as Dumbledore cried, thankful he was finally able to return the favor. He waited till Albus had composed himself to pull away and whispered. "It doesn't stop hurting, but it'll get better. I promise."

"I believe you." Dumbledore whispered, before turning away and shaking Byron's hand.

Snape walked between the crowds delivering letters to students and glaring at them playfully as they turned and stared. Susan Bones jumped into his arms as he handed her the letter and kissed his cheek. He smiled weakly. "I'm proud of you, Little Day."

"I'm proud of you too." She whispered as she smiled, before running away to meet up with her friends.

He found Draco Malfoy sitting alone, staring at his diploma. Snape licked his lips as he walked forward, only to step back as Chandra Firestone appeared, Dora in hand and sat besides him. "Hello Draco," She whispered.

Draco didn't look up "Go away."

"I was hoping we could talk."

"Am I supposed to care?" He asked. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I know you. You're my nephew." Draco looked up, frowning. He glanced at the girl beside her and then looked back at Chandra. Chandra glanced at Snape for a split second before inhaling. "My name is Chandra, and I was married to Gideon Malfoy…your father's older brother. He died two weeks ago too."

"I'm named after Gideon." Draco said, quietly. He glanced at Snape who walked to them, placed the letter on Chandra's lap wordlessly then walked away. Draco inhaled and continued. "Who's that?"

"This is Dora. We adopted her last summer…"

Ron was looking up at Hermione from his place on bended knee and was stammering. In his hand was a simple ring box, and in it was an even simpler band. He was turning the color of his hair. "Well?" He demanded.

Hermione stared at Harry who had his arms folded and was waiting just like Ron was. She glared at him, and then back to Ron. "You two probably planned this all, you stupid boys!"

"I don't think she's going to say yes, Ron."

"Nonsense, of course I'm going to say yes!"

Ron blinked and stood. "Really?"

"Why wouldn't I? I love you!"

Snape groaned as he approached. "The romance is too much."

Harry looked up, and blinked. He took a step back, uncertainly. "Professor Snape?"

"Where you expecting the tooth fairy, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, quietly.

Hermione was staring at him in a way that made Snape uncomfortable. She ran her eyes over his body uncertainly before musing. "You look hot, Professor." She looked at Ron. "What? It's true…"

"…okay, no." Snape shivered, and straightened. "This is for you, Mr. Weasley."

Ron smiled as he ripped open the letter. "I made it, Harry! I'm an Auror! I made it!" He jumped up and grabbed Hermione into a tight hug, before reaching out and taking Harry into the group hug. Harry laughed and clung onto him too. "I'm proud of you, Red."

Snape suppressed a shiver.

Ron stopped, and looked at Snape, demanding. "Where's Harry's letter?"

Snape shrugged, and checked his pocket. "…I don't have one for him. That's odd, I doubt the Academy would…Sind, do you have any letters?"

"Actually, I have one, Armsman." Charlemagne said as she walked to him. "I had to hide it from you."

"Here it is, Potter." Snape said, off-handedly, turning to reach out for the letter.

"Actually, Professor." Harry called. "It's not mine. I didn't apply to the Academy."

"What? Why not?" Snape asked, followed by Ron. "Yeah, Harry, why not? I thought we were going to America together?"

"Well, Ron…it's just that, I think I've had my fill of saving for a while. I'm tired of all this magic and everything that goes with it. I'm thinking of going back to a normal life and stay from magic…for a while." Harry whispered, looking down.

Hermione was staring at him, disbelieving. "You're leaving us, Harry?"

"Not forever, just for now. I want to be just Harry again for a while…I'll come back one day…" He said, pulling away from the group. "Maybe."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances of uncertainty while Snape just met Harry's eyes and nodded. He smiled at the Boy Who Lived and bowed lightly. "Hurry back, Mr. Potter. We need our celebrities."

Charlemagne put her arm around his waist as she came near. She leaned over and kissed Snape's cheek. "And our heroes."

"So who's the last letter for?"

"Read it yourself."

Snape frowned at her playful voice. He looked over and read the letter. "Oh hell no…nah, uh-huh." He shouted, pulling away from her and walking away. "There is no way on God's green earth, no! He's not that cruel! I did not survive all this hell for this! I quit! No!"

Ron watched as Snape limped away, shouting both American and English obscenities before turning back to Charlemagne. "Who is it?"

Sind looked at the letter and shrugged. "I don't know. Who is Neville Longbottom?"

**The End**

_Endnote: I want to thank everyone for reading my stories and I hope you had as much reading them as I had writing them. As you may have guessed, I wrote this story with hints that there might (and this is a very slim might) be a sequel to this story and if there is, you'll be able to see some of the old characters again. However, time shall tell. Again, thank you guys, especially Coesius who one of, if not my first fan. Along with her, thank you Karen, Ping, Megan, Aku Maru, Saerry, Sara, and everyone else who smacked some sense into me. Also, Amy (didn't think I'd forget ya, did ya? I love you girl. Anyways, no more sap. As I began most of my fan fiction, I end it with quote Midsummer's Night Dream: "_

_Gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend. And, as I am an honest Puck, if we have unearned luck…Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, we will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call. So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends."_


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